


you should be here (could be everything you wanted)

by hiddeninplainsight



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29903688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddeninplainsight/pseuds/hiddeninplainsight
Summary: christen's life is simple. teaching yoga, writing, and owning a plant shop with her two best friends.she didn't think that the one day she covers a shift would be different than any other, but she meets someone with the most annoying smirk.she realizes it wasn't like any ordinary day, especially if aforementioned smirk keeps showing up when at the shop when she happens to be there.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 22
Kudos: 272





	you should be here (could be everything you wanted)

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even know, but enjoy.

Christen rearranges the small bag of soil on her hip as she responds to a text from Megan, typing she may be a little late for trivia night because she has to show the new hire—Mal—how to close the shop, being her third day on the job.

She hasn’t closed _leaf_ since the beginning, when it was just her, Megan, and Kelley figuring out how to make it in this business, before buying plants became mainstream. Their shop has been open for almost six years, and by year three, they felt comfortable to hire someone so they could take a step back from day-to-day operations. Sofia was supposed to be here, but she had a community event in Northeast, so Christen volunteered to cover her shift.

She walks back out to the floor and notices it’s much more crowded and definitely noisier than when she left, the soft indie music she chose drowned out by a lively conversation.

There are two girls standing at the register, talking to Mal, making her laugh as the shorter of the two points at the pot. That one in particular has been popular among customers because it has breasts ( _“Boobies!”_ Christen hears) as the design. She rolls her eyes, amused at the immaturity, but those were her exact words when the new shipment from the local supplier arrived as well.

Christen places the soil in its section, straightening a bit before she turns around and sees another person, walking slowly and carefully along the display of plants.

The woman’s pretty, dressed in a fitted pair of black jeans and an oversized sand colored t-shirt, topped off with an olive green beanie. Christen finds her attractive, might even say that she’s someone she would go for, but she knows it’s just another day, another encounter with a person she’ll never see again.

There’s an adorable concentrated expression on her face, as she stops to look at a plant, that has Christen smiling fondly, but she shakes her head, composing herself. She walks over to the woman because Mal seems preoccupied and, well, she owns the place so it’s still her job to sell.

“Hi, can I help you with something?”

It clearly wasn’t the best thing to do because the woman nearly jumps away from the wall at the sound, visibly startled.

“Shit, you scared me,” The woman says breathless.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” Christen apologizes, smiling politely as she glances at the plant the woman was looking at— _ficus elastica_. In simpler terms, a rubber plant. She tilts her head, “Is there anything I could help you with?”

“Oh no,” The woman says sheepishly, bringing her hand to rub the back of her head. “I’m not a plant person. I’m just here with my friends.”

Christen’s about to respond when noise erupts from the register.

“Sonny don’t do that!” is yelled followed by a pot shattering on the ground.

Christen hears Mal muttering loudly _fuck fuck fuck_ and she sighs, letting a breath out and giving the woman in front of her an apologetic smile, “I better go take care of that.”

“Uh, let me go with you. I’m pretty sure those are my friends,” The woman rolls her eyes, shaking her head as if it’s expected. Christen has to control the smile forming because she’s finding it all too cute with her annoyance.

They make their way through the shop, with the woman following to the sight of a broken pot and its pieces scattered all over the floor.

“I can explain. I’ll pay for it. I’ll work for free. I’ll-I’ll do anything,” Mal rushes out before Christen can open her mouth.

“Mal, it’s okay,” Christen soothes, trying to calm her employee down, who’s nearly on the verge of tears at something like this happening in front of the owner. 

“Seriously, Sonny?” The woman pipes up from behind her.

“What?” The shorter one answers. “Lindsey made me do it!”

“I didn’t make you do anything,” Lindsey defends, raising a hand to shove Sonny? with enough force that said girl takes a few staggered steps before regaining her balance. “Tobin come on, like I’d—” Lindsey isn’t able to finish her sentence because Sonny jumps on her, latching on like a koala that they almost fall over.

“Oh my fucking god,” Christen hears Tobin mutter under her breath, quickly sidestepping to break up the wrestling and hopefully to prevent damage to nothing else.

_That’s an interesting name_ , Christen thinks as Tobin struggles to pull Sonny off. She sees Mal, lip quivering and arms crossed, that she decides to clean up the mess before someone actually gets hurt by stepping on the fragments, walking behind the counter and giving Mal a comforting pat as she reaches for the broom and dustpan.

The three women continue to wrestle while Christen sweeps the pieces into a neat pile. Mal’s by her side, taking the broom and dustpan out of her hands, eagerly cleaning up the mess.

Christen admires Mal’s enthusiasm because the younger woman really has nothing to worry about. It happens and she makes a mental note to talk about how to handle these situations if they ever do happen again, as rare as they are. 

Christen hears Sonny grunt after being dislodged from Lindsey and looks to see Tobin immediately placing herself between them, probably to act as a barrier. She’s saying something to them in a hushed tone that Christen can’t make out, but guilty expressions form on their faces the more Tobin speaks.

Tobin turns around to face Christen, elbowing both the girls that they say, “We’re sorry,” at the same time.

“It’s really no big deal,” Christen says honestly.

“I’m more sorry though,” Sonny speaks up, mildly embarrassed at the situation. “Lindsey said I couldn’t balance the pot on my head and I thought my head was big enough to, and well, that didn’t—” Tobin elbows her _again_ , cutting her off from a tangent that she coughs to clear her throat. “What I’m trying to say is I’ll pay for it and I’ll even buy a plant too.”

“It’s really—”

“She’ll buy a plant,” Tobin says firmly, leaving no room for discussion.

Christen wants to scratch her head, but she relents, shrugging because she doesn’t want to argue. The sooner they leave, the sooner she’ll be with her beloved fries she eats every week. 

There is something charming about Tobin’s insistence and Christen would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit turned on by the display of authority, but she’ll keep that bit to herself.

Christen walks behind the counter as Mal carefully balances the dustpan as she walks to the back, and notices Tobin watching the other two girls like a hawk as they start to walk around the shop, falling into a quiet conversation about what kind of plant to get.

“So not a plant person?” Christen asks, repeating Tobin’s words, after a moment.

Tobin takes her gaze off the two, bringing her attention to the voice, and Christen didn’t notice how brown her eyes were, but it’s different than what she’s seen before. It’s like they’re almost lighting up, like an ember waiting to grow into flames. They may even have flecks of green, but she’d have to get closer to be sure. 

“Oh no,” Christen hears Tobin respond and she shifts her focus back to the conversation. “I’m hardly ever home so I don’t think I’d be the best person to take care of one.”

“What! There are so many benefits to having plants in your living space. Even if you aren’t home a lot, there are some plants that are very low maintenance and don’t need that much attention,” Christen explains while wondering what kind of job this Tobin has. “What keeps you away from home?” As curious as she is, she doesn’t want to pry, adding, “If I may ask.”

“I take pictures,” Tobin replies. Christen thinks she’s downplaying her job title as _photographer_ because saying that seems way too simple. “It’s a lot of traveling and I’m home, at least, once, maybe twice, a month. If that.”

“Pictures of what?”

“Depends,” Tobin answers vaguely, not saying anymore and Christen doesn’t know if she’s supposed to ask or if she’s supposed to let it go.

“On?”

“What I feel like doing,” Tobin says without missing a beat, and she smirks like they’re in some game she knows she’s going to win.

Christen doesn’t know if they’re joking or flirting, and she wouldn’t mind if it’s the latter. She rolls her eyes, the smirk on Tobin’s face getting wider, “Okay miss secretive, if that’s how you wanna be, fine. But if you aren’t home, I could show you a few that are _really_ easy to maintain.”

Tobin tilts her head, almost like she’s considering, and she opens her mouth, but Sonny’s suddenly in front of her, lifting one of the larger plants onto the counter.

“I’ll take this one,” Sonny states, pulling a small wallet out of her back pocket. “And put the broken pot on my tab.”

Christen wants to roll her eyes, something she feels like she’s been doing a lot of in a short time span, but she shakes her head instead, giggling, “You know, you didn’t have to put it on the counter.”

“Told you Em,” Lindsey says, standing next to Tobin, who actually rolls her eyes at her friend’s antics.

“What’s your name? Em? Sonny?” Christen asks, because she’s getting confused with the name switching.

“The name’s Emily Sonnett. Hardly anyone calls me by my first name. I usually go by the names they’ve been calling me, except if you’ve heard dumbass, ignore that. It’s not a nickname, it’s just a name I get called a lot because—”

“Sonnett, just pay already. We have somewhere to be,” Tobin interjects, sounding annoyed. Christen can safely assume that this happens a lot.

“Fine, whatever,” Emily huffs, pouting as Christen rings her up, selecting a cheaper pot price instead of the original one. Once Emily is handed the receipt, she checks it before looking up to Christen shaking her head. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Christen winks and Emily grins, thanking her as she reaches for her new plant.

“I’m sure I’ll be back,” Emily says, smiling, once she has a decent grasp on the plant. “Thanks again!” She says, walking to Lindsey and Tobin who look ready to smack her, but it must’ve taken a lot of control.

“Have a good one!” Christen says, and the response is a wave from Lindsey and a curt _bye_ from Emily as they exit. Tobin lingers by the door, looking with an expression she can’t quite decipher. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I, um, well,” Tobin starts out, and it’s not a complete sentence so Christen waits for her to gather her words. It takes another moment before Tobin says, “If I decide to buy a plant, will you show me which one to get?”

Christen smiles, nodding her head a little too enthusiastically that she could give herself whiplash, “Definitely! Come back anytime.”

Tobin takes in the words, and the biggest tooth-showing smile appears, “Cool,” She says almost too coolly and gives a _hang loose_ sign with her hand, walking out of the shop without another word.

Christen’s smile disappears, remembering that it’s just another day where she had a passing moment with attractive woman that she will most likely never see again. She sighs, glancing at the wall clock and quickly realizing she better show Mal what to do before she’s _really_ late.

“Mal, where are you—”

The sound of something shattering comes from the back of the shop.

She’s going to be late. 

\--

It isn’t until exactly a week later as Christen stands in line, waiting to order food for the table since she was late to last week’s trivia night and _pretty fly for a cacti_ dropped out of the top three rankings of their frequented pub, when a past moment is all of a sudden in her present.

“Look who it is,” Christen hears behind her, turning around to see Tobin with a small smirk on her face.

“I thought you’re only home once a month,” Christen says, taunting in a playful way that has Tobin chuckling.

“I remember saying maybe twice,” Tobin responds smirk widening as she raises a challenging eyebrow that Christen rolls her eyes at, not bothering to respond as the bartender calls for her turn to order.

She quickly unlocks her phone, reading out the order the table gave her, which was basically a list of all items with cheese in every form since Kelley blamed her for arriving at the start of the sixth round, missing her two best rounds—music and pictures—that this was her form of retaliation. Once she orders Ashlyn and Megan’s beer flights, waiting for the bartender to give a number sign, she can’t ignore Tobin’s presence even though she’s not being crowded.

“Does someone at your table really like cheese or what?” Tobin asks rhetorically, loud enough for Christen to hear over the noise.

“Something like that,” Christen shrugs as the bartender hands her number _23_ , turning around to fully take in Tobin’s appearance, light gray sweats paired with a loose fitting white t-shirt, topped off with a maroon cap that has the words _Neighborhood Joint_ etched on. She looks soft, almost _too_ soft. If Christen had to describe what a hug looked like, she’s pretty sure she’d describe Tobin. Shaking herself out of those kinds of thoughts, she says as she walks around the girl, “Good luck.”

Tobin only grins, and Christen wonders what it’d take to wipe that stupid (cute) look off her face.

\--

Christen doesn’t see where Tobin sits as the quiz master asks questions, but she is aware that she’s here, _somewhere_ in the room. She doesn’t pay much attention to it because she has questions that need to be answered and Kelley keeps pestering about one of the orders having the wrong kind of cheese.

Megan also offers one of the beers from her flight in the quest for Christen to finally have a craft beer to enjoy, instead of those _basic ass white claws_ (per Kelley) she defaults to. It’s an IPA that tastes horrendous, almost spitting it back into the glass as Megan’s face falls flat. Ashlyn offers one of the wheat ales, but she politely declines, sipping her water before she walks up to the front to answer the bonus question of the round.

When Christen gets there among a few other people, she doesn’t realize she’s standing next to Tobin until she hears a question she knows is directed at her, “Is _pretty fly for a cacti_ your team?”

Christen turns slightly to see that _damn_ smirk on her face, and she’s about to answer when the quiz master gathers their attention, asking a question about what two PAC-12 college teams are included in _Battle of the Bay_. She quickly writes down the answers because, of course she knows, she went to one of them. Thrusting the sheet of paper at the quiz master before anyone else, he deems the answer correct.

There’s a small intermission for score tallying before going into the final rounds and Christen feels Tobin following her. She veers off to the bar, wanting to order a glass of wine before returning to the table.

“You wrote that insanely fast,” Tobin comments, standing next to her.

“Yes,” Christen replies simply.

“How’d you know that?”

“I went to one of them,” Christen says because she remembers those days like it was yesterday, filled of fond memories with the soccer team and the whole college experience that shaped her into who she is today.

“Cal?”

“Stanford,” Christen states, missing the way Tobin’s jaw drops as she orders herself a glass of red wine. Tobin’s _still_ next to her after telling the bartender to add it to her tab that she notices the surprised expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” Tobin shakes her head, smirking _again_ , like she knows some secret and isn’t at liberty to tell. “You’re a different one.”

Christen nods, giving a thumbs up, ready to walk away from this conversation because it’s weird and she doesn’t know what Tobin’s getting at.

“Do I at least get to know your name?” Tobin calls out when she’s a couple feet away.

Christen realizes Tobin doesn’t know her name, but she knows Tobin’s. It could be her eidetic memory or her willingness to remember a girl’s name, but she’d never say which.

“Probably not,” Christen shrugs, throwing a lazy wave as the quiz master calls the teams back to their tables. “Goodbye Tobin.”

This time, however, she turns at the perfect moment to see Tobin’s jaw drop at the sound of her name. 

_Take that_ , she thinks, internally celebrating for stumping Tobin at whatever game they’re playing.

\--

“Thanks! I’m here every Monday and Thursday, but there are some other classes we offer that I think you’d like as well,” Christen says politely, smiling and directing the new member to the front to get more information from Crystal. 

The woman came up to her once she finished class, telling her how much she loved the flow, the poses, even complimenting the sound of her voice because _it’s so soothing, it almost put me to sleep_. This has happened before, new members or people who haven't been to one of her classes, talking to her after and she’s flattered every time because she’s only been a yoga instructor for almost a year.

It’s enjoyable because it keeps her involved in the community, and her actual job as a freelance writer in Portland gives her the flexibility to do more than if she had a typical nine to five. She also coaches club soccer with Alyssa, so along with running _leaf_ , she’s fairly busy. 

The thought of club soccer starting soon crosses her mind, and she realizes she should reach out to Alyssa to start prepping.

Smiling to the others on her way to her bag, Christen overhears a new coffee shop that opened a couple blocks away (mentally noting to visit soon). Instead of just pulling her phone out with the intent to text the soccer coach, that’s not the case. She gets distracted by the amount of notifications from Sofia, consisting of a combination of calls and texts.

Immediately calling back instead of checking the messages because she hopes that nothing happened to the shop, Sofia’s voice cheerfully answers, “Hey Chris!”

“What happened?” Christen forgoes pleasantries because the only time Sofia’s ever called that much was when she forgot her keys to open when a new shipment of (expensive) plants were arriving.

“What happ—Oh! There was someone that came by earlier, looking for you,” Sofia says easily, as if she almost wasn’t about to put Christen through a panic attack. The shop’s practically her livelihood and she’d keel over if anything ever happened.

Christen racks her brain, trying to remember if she was supposed to be at the shop today to meet anyone. It’s Thursday and she usually doesn’t drop by this time of the week, unless she has to. 

But no one comes to mind.

“She wanted to buy something, but didn’t know what,” Sofia recounts. “I tried to help her, but she insisted that she wanted someone else to show her. I asked her who because it’s only me today, but she didn’t have a name.”

Christen bites her lip, shaking her head as she tries to stop the smile from forming on her face, but she can’t help it.

“I know who it is.”

“Who?”

“She came in with her friends a few weeks ago when Mal started. It was that day you had that volunteer thing and I covered,” Christen sighs, smiling that Tobin actually came back and was as commanding as she was then. “What’d you say?”

“Well after I had her describe who exactly she wanted, which by the way, was super cute,” Christen perks up, wondering what Tobin said, “I told her that you don’t have a set schedule, but I said that she’d have a better chance at the beginning of the week.”

“And?”

“She looked kinda sad after that, mumbling something about how she can’t make that work,” Sofia says, and Christen’s imagining her friend scratching her head because of Tobin’s vagueness. “I’m not sure, she thanked me and then walked out.”

Christen remembers how Tobin mentioned she’s hardly ever home, and it’s been about a month since she saw Tobin at trivia night. This was probably her only chance to be home until she’s gone for however long.

It’s not that Christen hasn’t thought about Tobin. Maybe for a couple days after trivia night, but then Tobin was archived into her memory as life went on. Because why would she spend time thinking about someone she would probably never see again. Their lives are strikingly different as Christen’s always been one for stability and routine while Tobin’s life seems to be unpredictable and unconventional.

“But she described you in a way that made my heart swoon and I was almost going to say that there was no one that fit that description so I could date her.”

“You’re in a very committed relationship,” Christen laughs, pointing out the obvious.

“I know, I know,” Sofia dismisses, a slight bitterness in her tone. “But in all seriousness, as soon as she mentioned and I quote _the kind of green that’ll catch your attention without warning_ end quote, it was obviously you. None of our eyes are green and well, Kelley’s her own warning if she has anyone’s attention.”

Christen’s heart momentarily pauses at _that_ , skipping a beat as it falls back into rhythm, because the memory of Tobin’s smirk flashes in her mind, making her want nothing more to see it again.

\--

Christen spends more time at the shop than she had in the past couple years combined.

When she usually drops by, it’s no more than thirty minutes before she leaves and gets on with her day. The satisfaction of marking off all the things she’s completed has been, and will always be, one of her simple pleasures in life.

She doesn’t loiter because she has a laundry list of things to complete after checking in. She also doesn’t come back after teaching at the studio. She definitely doesn’t write her articles in the little seating space Kelley suggested they make for aesthetic purposes rather than for functionality.

At first, Sofia doesn’t say anything because it’s normal for any of them to drop by unannounced and linger for a bit. Each owner generally comes around the same time every week—Christen at the beginning, Megan sometime midweek, and Kelley on the weekends.

Christen forgot how much she loved being at the shop—the variety of plants brightening her mood and the look of content when someone leaves with a new addition, ready to cultivate their ‘new child’ as she heard one couple say. She knows that Sofia and Mal are perfectly capable of taking care of the shop on their own, but she missed being involved.

She’ll vehemently deny that it has anything to do with Tobin. That she hopes to catch her and personally show their collection of plants. That she may be harboring a crush on someone she knows nothing about. That she’s waiting for something that might not even happen.

By the third week after Tobin came in, when the little seating space has become Christen’s makeshift office, when she brings Sofia’s smoothie order from the shop next to the studio after subbing a class, is when Sofia finally says something about her boss’s unusually prolonged presence.

“As much as I love having you here, is there a reason why?” Sofia asks, one eyebrow raised as she sips the berry blast smoothie that Christen may have thrown in kale this time to see if she’ll notice.

(She doesn’t.)

“It is my shop,” Christen says, preoccupied with opening her laptop to check for e-mails on any articles she needed to edit.

“I’m not saying that it’s not, but I haven’t seen you this much at the shop since I started working here,” Christen looks up to see a small grin tugging at Sofia’s lips. “Does it have to do with a certain mystery woman who has _yet_ to show up?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Christen looks back at the screen, avoiding the question but can clearly see a shit-eating grin in her periphery.

“What makes you sure she’ll even show up?”

Christen isn’t sure.

She isn’t sure at all, but she has this gut feeling Tobin will.

\--

The following week, Tobin still doesn’t show up.

It slightly deters Christen because she doesn’t want to keep hoping for something to be disappointed. On the other hand, she’s become so used to being at the shop that she asked Crystal if she could change her class schedule to Wednesday and Friday, even sweetening the deal by taking over the first weekend of the month, which Crystal could not refuse.

Kelley happens to drop by on an early Tuesday afternoon while Mal waters the plants and Christen adds finishing touches on an article about Portland’s upcoming _Pizza Week_ , her top contender being the one with macaroni and cheese, along with suggesting restaurants that are close in proximity if people wanted to try the different foodie creations.

“What are you doing here?”

“Writing about _Pizza Week_ ,” Christen answers distracted as she rereads the sentence she wrote.

“Okay,” Kelley nods. “But what are you doing here?” She asks again, forcing Christen to look up from her screen.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you usually come in the morning and leave before the noon? What are you still doing here?”

Mal says something, but Kelley doesn’t catch it, asking for her to say it again.

“She’s waiting for her mystery woman,” Mal repeats.

Then all hell breaks loose.

Kelley slams Christen’s laptop shut, carefully pushing it aside so she’s right in front, firing off questions that doesn’t give Christen much time to answer.

“What is she talking about?”

“How come this is the first time I’ve heard about it?”

“Is she hot?”

“Did you bang?”

“If not, do you want to bang?”

“If you don’t, can I?”

Christen claps her hand over Kelley’s mouth, squeezing a little as she continues mumbling. It stops, but then Christen feels something wet and tickling, realizing Kelley’s licking her hand that she withdraws said body part, wiping it on her friend’s cheek.

Mal’s laughing, but immediately goes quiet when Christen throws a glare in her direction. Kelley pokes her cheek, giving her an impatient look because she wants answers.

Answers Christen doesn't have. 

\--

Almost a week later, Christen and Sofia are closing _leaf_ early because it’s _Pizza Week_ and their shop is conveniently near three participating restaurants. 

“I’ll go throw these outside and then we’ll head out?” Sofia asks, carrying a basket filled with trimmings from the day.

“Yeah, I’ll finish spraying the rest of the plants,” Christen nods, agreeing because she cannot wait to try the pizza covered in spaghetti carbonara—her two favorite foods combined into one. 

Christen’s humming along to “current location” by LANY playing as she mists the plants. She hears the bell ring from the door, realizing she forgot to lock up. She’s about to say that they’re closed, but her mouth freezes, stopping from producing words, when she sees _exactly_ who’s there.

Tobin stalls as soon as their gazes meet, the door shutting quietly. Christen’s breath catches in her throat at the fact she’s _here_ , eyes bright and burning that makes Christen think of a hot summer day back at the beaches along the southern California coast. Her body feels warm suddenly, even with the air at its coldest setting.

“Hi,” Tobin says—raspy and soft—after a moment they take the other in.

What draws Christen’s gaze down is the palm tree designed yellow shorts and the slightly wrinkled white t-shirt that’s a little fitter than what she’s seen before. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without some headwear—that same maroon cap from trivia night.

Christen wonders if she’ll ever see the top of Tobin’s head, but she tucks that thought away for another day.

“Hi,” Christen says quickly as soon as she realizes she’s been ogling at the woman, the infamous smirk making its appearance. “What brings you in today?” She asks, composing herself as she places the spray bottle off to the side.

“I’m looking to buy a plant, something low maintenance that’ll take very little effort on my part,” Tobin walks towards her, glancing at the nearby selection that’s the opposite of what she’s looking for. By the time she makes it to where Christen’s standing, the smirk still planted on her face, “Know of any?”

Christen shakes her head, rolling her eyes, “I know a few.” She raises a finger to point to the other side of the shop, “Let me show you.” They’re past small talk and it only seems fair, “I’m Christen by the way.”

“Hi Christen. I’m Tobin, but you already knew that,” Tobin winks with a cheeky grin.

And Christen rolls her eyes _again_.

\--

Christen’s about halfway through explaining to Tobin how placement in her condo affects plant growth when Sofia comes barreling from the back.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I took so long. I don’t know why Kelley thought it was a good idea to stack fucking bricks on top of the—” Sofia halts her sentence when she realizes that Christen’s not alone.

Christen forgot about Sofia and pizza, too engrossed with talking about plants, and definitely not because of who she’s talking to. It’s mostly a one-sided conversation of Christen suggesting which plants are best with minimal responses from Tobin as she listens intently, asking questions after thorough explanations.

When the two turn to face Sofia, who now has a grin slowly growing, Christen notices her friend’s eyes dart between them. She’s trying to shake her head without bringing too much attention, trying to tell her to _not_ do whatever she has in mind.

But life was never that simple for Christen.

“Hey, I remember you,” Sofia states, cheshire grin wide as it could be, keeping her eyes only on Tobin as if Christen doesn’t exist. “Figure out what you wanted to buy?”

Christen internally face palms, taking a brief glance at Tobin looking slightly… embarrassed?

“Um, yeah I think so.”

“Good, glad to hear that,” Sofia’s nodding as if she doesn’t have something up her sleeve. “Anywho, I’ll leave you two. Christen, you owe me pizza but we can do that tomorrow. See ya,” She winks at her boss and grabs her bag from the counter, opening the door as she leaves without another word. 

The door closes with the bell slightly ringing from the force. There’s a pause between them before Tobin turns to ask something.

“Were you closed when I walked in?”

“Um,” Christen smiles sheepishly. “Just about. We were going to a restaurant nearby. It’s _Pizza Week_.”

“What?!” Tobin’s eyes widened. “You should’ve kicked me out. I would’ve understood.” She grabs a plant without looking and walks to the counter. “I’ll take this one.”

“Uh,” Christen rubs her chin as she notices which plant Tobin picked. “You might not want that plant.”

Tobin looks at the plant on the counter, eyes squinting as if she’s figuring out what’s wrong with it, “What? Why?”

“That plant,” Christen points as she makes her way over, grabbing a plant that fits Tobin’s life exactly, “Is a lot of work. You’d have to be around to keep the soil moist.” She cringes at that word because it always sounds weird coming from her mouth. “This one’s for you,” She moves aside the croton plant and places her choice in front of Tobin.

“A bamboo?” Tobin gives her a confused look. “Seriously?”

“It’s simple, low maintenance, and will take very little effort,” Christen echoes her earlier words, leaning against the counter. “What do you say?”

Tobin bites her lip, probably deciding if it’s worth the challenge, and Christen finds it all too adorable as she stares down the plants, like they’re going to say something to sway her one way or the other.

“I’ll take both.”

The answer surprises Christen because that’s not what she expected. Given the limited knowledge she has about Tobin’s life, a croton plant is at the bottom of the list because of where to place it, how much to water it, and a lot of things she hasn’t gone into detail.

“I’ll even buy you a slice of pizza?” Tobin asks shyly, adding quietly, “Or however many slices you want.”

That confidence that Tobin walked in with earlier seems to have vanished because the small interactions they’ve had, she’s always had a certain—for a lack of better word—swagger. She pinned Tobin with a chill, laid-back, go with the flow attitude in anything she did.

But right now, Tobin seems on edge, nervous for even asking.

Deciding to take the photographer out of her misery, Christen smiles, easily replying, “I’d love that.”

All signs of distress visibly leaving her body, and the trademark smirk strikes again.

\--

“I don’t get why pasta has to be on pizza? That’s a lot of carbs,” Tobin says as she slides into the booth seat across from Christen, placing the number sign on the edge of the table.

“It’s part of the food creativity,” Christen rolls her eyes, feigning offense because as healthy as she tries to be, carbohydrates are her weakness.

“I guess, but there’s nothing that beats a New York slice,” Tobin shrugs.

Since the two made the short walk from _leaf_ to the restaurant, Christen offered they swing by the shop once they finish so Tobin’s new plants aren’t joining them at the table, it’s been a steady stream of the other telling tidbits of their lives.

Tobin casually mentioning she just came back from a month long trip in Australia because she photographed surfing competitions. Christen revealing that she grew up in California, but has never actually participated in the sport. Tobin, who stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, shocked, that the people behind them walked into the sudden road block, insisting that they have to make a trip to the coast so she could teach Christen how.

Christen talking about her sisters, especially Tyler who keeps adopting dogs with her girlfriend. Tobin’s face lighting up when Christen mentions sisters because she recently found out her older sister is having another kid, her first niece who’s going to be ‘so loved and so dope.’

“Are you from New York?” Christen asks, taking a sip of water as she watches Tobin fidget with the parmesan cheese holder.

“Eh, New Jersey,” Tobin says, slightly untwisting the cap, a mischievous smile forms when she gets it where she wants.

“What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.”

The answer infuriates Christen because she’s doing _something_ , but before she could pester Tobin, the pizza arrives. The grumbling in her stomach makes her forget. She reaches for the cheese without a second thought, Tobin all too willing to hand it over.

When Christen goes to sprinkle cheese on her slice, the cap detaches as soon as she shakes, a powdered mountain of cheese forms on top of the noodles.

“Oh my god,” Christen groans, looking up to Tobin trying to hold in her laughter.

Tobin can’t because she lets out a deep throaty laugh that has her eyes crinkling. “Oh man,” She gets out in between breaths. “That was great. I wish I had my camera.”

Christen just shakes her head, biting her lip as Tobin keeps laughing. She can’t help join in the laughter because as much as she hates pranks, she should’ve seen it coming. It happened right in front of her eyes.

(Tobin switches their slices, “That’s just how I like pizza anyways.”)

\--

Christen unlocks the door to the shop, stomach full and ready to sleep, as she lets Tobin in. She plops herself on the sofa and kicks her feet onto the coffee table.

They just left the restaurant, and Christen concludes that she enjoys Tobin’s company.

As aggravating as Tobin’s smirk is, especially after the prank she pulled, Christen may have a small crush. She doesn’t know what to expect from this, from her, but she’s along for the ride. She’s not thinking of where their wedding will be, but her gut’s telling her that if they spend a little more time getting to know each other, it could turn into something.

But after hearing Tobin talk about where she’s been in the past few months, it seems unrealistic that a relationship fits them. A friendship seems more likely.

Before Australia, she was in Tokyo doing a street wear campaign. Before that, she was in Toronto shooting for a healthcare company. She even mentioned that in two months she’ll be in France for the upcoming women’s World Cup.

Tobin meant it when she said it depends on what she takes pictures of. It’s all over the place, and Christen admires that, maybe a little envious too that Tobin gets to go to France to watch the sport she loved playing.

Christen shared more about herself than she had in awhile. She realized when Tobin went to wash her hands that she hadn’t shared a meal with someone who wasn’t a friend in months. She’d hardly consider it a date, but it had date-like elements.

She talked about her childhood, how her mother pushed her to play sports, even recounting the story of how she used to pick flowers during soccer games while everyone else ran for the ball. She touched a little on playing soccer for Stanford, and she thought she wouldn’t have to delve too much into it, but Tobin had a bunch of questions because she played at North Carolina.

It was one of the better conversations Christen’s had with a (pseudo-)stranger, never running out of things to talk about and no awkward pauses as they moved from topic to topic.

“Hey,” Christen opens her eyes, unaware that they were even closed, to Tobin standing in front of her, a plant secured in each arm.

“Hey,” Christen blinks a bit, sitting up. “Did I fall asleep?”

“I’m not sure,” Tobin says, smiling softly. “But c’mon, you’re tired. I’m keeping you from a bed.”

“I’m not,” The yawn Christen lets out says otherwise. “Okay, I guess I’m tired. But it’s okay. I don’t mind. This was nice.”

Christen immediately wakes up, the sleepy confession making her more alert than she was five seconds ago.

“It was,” Tobin says, smiling, like actually smiling instead of that stupid smirk. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Me too,” Christen stands up, stretching before a yawn hits her again. She remembers something she meant to tell Tobin earlier. “Just in case, if you have any questions with your plants, you’re more than welcome to drop by to ask questions or direct message us on Instagram, we’re at ‘leaf503’.”

“I, um,” Tobin looks down, adorable with the small plants, and Christen feels like it’s déjà vu all over again like the first time they met. “CanIhaveyournumber?”

It comes rushed out, words jumbled together, almost too adorable that has Christen smiling.

“Say again? But slower,” Christen teases, even though she understood her perfectly. It’s a different side of Tobin when she’s flustered and uncomfortable.

It’s _almost_ flattering to Christen that she has this effect.

Tobin exhales a breath, a small shake of her head as if she’s trying to psych herself out, “Can I have your number?”

“Of course,” Christen says easily, as Tobin places one of the plants on the table to pull her phone out.

Once numbers are exchanged and Christen locks up the shop for night with Tobin waiting, neither makes a move to walk away to their respective homes.

It’s not a chilly Portland evening, but there’s a slight breeze and Christen left her jacket in the car. She doesn’t know how Tobin’s not cold with her choice in bottoms.

“I’ll see you?” Christen offers when a particularly chilly breeze hits her skin.

“You will.”

Christen nods, smiling that Tobin returns with a smile of her own.

“Bye Christen,” Tobin says softly as she turns slightly, a movement that Christen mirrors.

“Bye Tobin.”

As Christen walks away, seeing Tobin wave with the bamboo plant, she really does hope she’ll see the photographer soon.

\--

Christen wanted soon, but she didn’t think that meant the _next_ day.

After organizing inventory in the storage room, Christen walks out to the sound of laughter on the main floor. It’s surprising because it’s not even noon, having just opened thirty minutes ago, and from her experience, people don’t come in this early.

But it wasn’t the fact that there were people laughing, it was the fact of _who_ was laughing, the maroon cap making it all too easy to recognize exactly who.

With Tobin’s back facing Christen, she doesn’t realize the owner’s appearance as she keeps saying something that has Sofia giggling.

Sofia notices Christen’s presence, sending a wink that stops Tobin mid-sentence to turn to see who showed up. A smile (not a smirk for once) immediately forms on Tobin’s face when she meets Christen’s eyes, and the owner’s powerless from returning the smile.

“Hey Chris,” Sofia says, and there’s something in her tone that has Christen apprehensive when she gets to the counter, putting a couple feet between her and Tobin. “Just met Tobin here and she needed something. I told her you’d help since I have to go take inventory.” 

“I—alright,” Christen decides to hold her tongue, not wanting to reprimand her friend in front of Tobin. Sofia salutes, throwing a subtle wink that Christen _hopes_ Tobin doesn’t notice, and walks back to where Christen just was.

Christen hears Tobin clear her throat, shifting her attention away from Sofia’s retreating figure to the smirk that seems to always be there.

Slipping into her customer service persona with a friendly smile, “So what can I help you with?”

Even though Tobin only came in to purchase a mist bottle because she was reading how to take care of the plants, it ends up becoming a more detailed lesson, which Christen has no problem explaining.

It gives her the chance to talk to Tobin more and she may be enjoying the attention she’s receiving. She’d never admit that to Sofia though. She’s already thought of a hundred different ways she plans to bury her friend with soil (the high quality stuff too), so if she ever found out that Christen’s more than enjoying this, the teasing would be relentless.

If either Megan or Kelley caught wind, she would _not_ hear the end of it. 

“Seriously,” Christen starts, scanning the mist bottle and small bag of fertilizer, as she reiterates what she said the night before, “If you have any questions, you have my number.”

“I know,” Tobin says shyly and Christen hears the doubt in her voice. It’s even more apparent when she asks, “Would it be cool if I used your number for… Unrelated plant things?”

Christen’s chest does something weird that she hasn’t felt in a _long_ time. It’s uncomfortable, but she welcomes it. She hopes she’s not misreading the situation because that would suck and she’d feel stupid.

Christen’s tempted to open up, but she’ll only fall if Tobin’s first. Just in case she gets hurt, she wouldn’t be the only one.

“Like what?”

“Anything,” The shyness that was in Tobin’s voice suddenly gone, replaced with the coolness that drew Christen in the first place.

Christen nods, agreeing, because why not. She won’t rush it anything. She’ll let it happen naturally, letting the universe take control. Because as unexpected as Tobin showed up in her life, she would do what she could to keep her around.

\--

Uncharted territory becomes more familiar with the amount Christen and Tobin exchange messages, the line of communication open as they transition from strangers to friends.

When Tobin said anything, Christen didn’t think everything.

Thoughts Tobin has about something she saw on the MAX. Funny memes screenshotted from Instagram that resulted in Christen telling her to follow her personal account so it’d be easier. Beautiful pictures Tobin took with her phone while walking around, even sharing some unreleased photographs while she edited. Questions that made Christen feel like she was writing essays in their text thread.

(Plant care questions were also there, but that was a sliver of what they talked about.)

It wasn’t one sided because Christen did the same. She’d share pictures she took too, Tobin complimenting them even if they weren’t as artistic or clear (she didn’t have a steady hand). She shared things that crossed her mind and Tobin would always prod, engaged and receptive to the words in their text thread.

Christen wanted to ask if they could just talk on the phone or FaceTime with the amount they texted, especially at the end of the day, but Tobin didn’t reply right away nor did Christen want to seem too eager to reply as soon as the notification flashed on her screen.

Tobin becomes a welcomed part of her daily routine. Not where she has to checkmark that they talked, but it happens without much effort or thought. She doesn’t know if she should be dependent on their constant communication, but she can’t get enough. She gets excited when she sees a notification from Tobin, ignoring all the others.

Tobin shows up at the shop more frequently too, which Christen thought was odd because her work involves a lot of travel. She doesn’t question it though. She enjoys the little visits.

She doesn’t stay for very long. She comes in the days that Christen’s there to get something—a pot, another mist bottle, a succulent (she owns three already). If she doesn’t buy anything, she hangs around no more than thirty minutes because _I was just in the area, I thought I’d swing by_.

But it doesn’t connect with Christen that Tobin could still be working, could be traveling on the other days of the week.

It isn’t until Tobin walks in while Christen’s organizing the information for an article about the Pride month events around Portland that it finally clicks.

“Here,” Tobin extends a neatly wrapped box in front of Christen’s face, waving to Sofia at the counter.

“What is this?”

“Mochi,” Tobin states simply, taking the empty spot on the couch next to Christen once the box is out of her hands. 

Christen stares at the box, scratching her head with her free hand as she wonders when she asked Tobin to get her mochi, but she can’t recall. She remembers Tobin asking if she ever had some, which she replied that her best friend from high school was Japanese and used to bring some whenever she came back from Japan. There may have been mentions of what flavors she likes, but she doesn’t remember explicitly asking.

“They’re about a day old, but they still should be good,” Tobin adds.

“What do you mean a ‘day old’?” Christen asks, looking up at Tobin who’s nonchalantly bobbing her head to whatever song’s playing from Sofia’s playlist.

“Oh, uh, they’re from Japan?”

“They’re _what_?” Christen’s eyes widen as they switch back and forth between the box and Tobin. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I just came back from Japan…” Tobin trails off, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She further explains, “I had a photoshoot with _Bape_ for their upcoming fall line. I thought you knew?”

“How would I have known?”

“I sent you a picture of Shinjuku Crossing,” Tobin says, as if that was supposed to make any sense.

“I thought that was an old picture!” Christen rubs her temple.

“I-well, no. It wasn’t an old picture,” Tobin says timidly, scratching the back of her head. “Did you not want them? I guess I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want some.”

“Oh no!” Christen shakes her head vigorously. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s very sweet. Thank you for bringing me back some.” She smiles widely, hoping that Tobin understands she wasn’t being ungrateful, but a little surprised at the gesture.

“Are you sure?” Tobin asks shyly, not making any eye contact as she focuses on a spot on the ground.

“Yes, absolutely. I appreciate it,” Christen says as she starts to unwrap the packaging. “Want to eat some with me?” She offers, opening the box to a dozen mochi of different colors.

“Sure,” Tobin gives a soft smile, reaching for a pink one.

“Thanks again,” Christen says honestly.

“Of course,” Tobin winks, popping the piece into her mouth.

“Hey what’s that! Whatever it is, I want some!” Sofia yells from the counter.

Christen can’t stop her eyes from rolling, but automatically feels her lips turn upward when Tobin laughs. 

\--

“Hey Chris, where’s Tobin been?”

“Uh, work,” Christen answers distractedly, as she rotates a plant to get more light because she noticed it starting to wilt when she walked in.

“Well no shit,” Sofia says and Christen looks up to her friend rolling her eyes. “But she hasn’t been in a while. Is everything okay?”

It’s been two weeks since Tobin last dropped by, and three since she gave the mochi. After that, Christen politely requested from Tobin to say where she was if she happened to be traveling. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the gift because she did, and she felt giddy that Tobin thought of her while she was away.

It just seemed like a lot for someone to bring something back, but Tobin wanted to do it and Christen got the impression she’d do it again.

“Uh I think she’s in New Jersey right now. Or San Francisco,” Christen says, thinking about where she is because she received a picture early this morning of a bridge, but can’t remember which. “She’s taking pictures at the send off games for the women’s national team before they head to France.”

Tobin may or may not have invited Christen to go to France for the World Cup after telling her how much she wished she could go. She went to the 1999 World Cup Final because the game was held near her hometown as a child, and she commented she would love to go again to experience it as an adult.

But Christen wasn’t sure what Tobin meant by: _If you want to go, just let me know_. She didn’t know how to reply, except for sending a thumbs up emoji then changing the topic.

It seemed out of the blue and impulsive for an invitation like that to be thrown around so casually, but it’s not like Christen would go. That would be careless on her part to spend money on something that would’ve needed to be planned months in advance. She also started coaching with Alyssa in the afternoons, which would be irresponsible for her to leave for a month without any notice.

“Oh makes sense,” Sofia nods and Christen gives a thumbs up. She’s about to go back to misting the other plants when Sofia asks, “So has she asked you out? Or have you asked her out? You know I’m all for equality.”

“Wh-what?” Christen almost drops the bottle at the question, as she turns to face her friend. “Why would that happen? We’re just friends.” She adds the last bit because that’s what they are—friends, even though she has developed some feelings that run a little deeper than friendship.

“Friends my ass,” Sofia rolls her eyes at the comment. “Tobin and I _are_ friends. You two are definitely not. It’s sometimes disgustingly cute with how you two act around each other, like get a room.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Christen feels her cheeks heat up at the insinuation because she doesn’t know what Sofia could be referring to.

Not like Tobin practically staying the whole day at the shop with Christen, even bringing her laptop to edit pictures.

Not like Christen finding the heat radiating from Tobin’s body comforting as they sit _pretty_ close, like thighs touching kind of close.

Not like Tobin calling before she shows up and asking if anyone wanted anything from the bagel shop near her apartment, something Mal and Sofia have capitalized on more than Christen.

Not like Christen giving Tobin rides to and from the airport when she travels, but Sofia doesn’t need to know that part.

“Okay sure,” Sofia agrees, rolling her eyes at the not-so-obvious denial. “One of you better make a move before I make the move for you.”

Christen’s about to reply when a customer walks in, turning to see who it is—someone she’s only seen once, but familiar nonetheless.

“Sonny?”

Emily jumps, startled by her name being said that she gives Christen a once over and smiles brightly, “Hey! I remember you, you’re uh…”

“Christen,” The owner finishes, placing the mist bottle to the side and walking over where Emily’s standing.

“Hi again, I’m Sonny, but you clearly remember me. I never got your name so I couldn’t say it. But,” Emily points triumphantly, “I do remember you. Tobin wouldn’t shut up about you after we left, and she already doesn’t talk as is, something about your beauty overwhelming her or something. When she does talk, it’s usually in metaphors and it goes over my head a lot—”

Christen’s caught off guard with learning that Tobin talked about her right after they met, her cheeks still feel warm from Sofia calling her out on her obvious not-friendship with Tobin. She zones back in at Emily’s talking, missing most of what she said.

“You’re rambling,” Christen interrupts, causing the woman to stop mid-sentence.

“Oops, sorry,” Emily gives a cheeky smile. “But I’m here for fertilizer. Tobin, of all people, was the one that told me to come here because she’s apparently a pro now and knows so much about plants. The big plant I bought from you needs some and I ran out of what I had before. And I’m definitely rambling again,” She says, laughing lightheartedly.

“Hi,” Sofia shows up suddenly, “I’ll help you find what you need. Come on,” Placing a gentle hand on Emily’s shoulder as she starts to pushing her towards their supply, but she mouths something to Christen.

Christen can’t make out what’s being said that Sofia rolls her eyes, “Ask. Her. Out.” She enunciates loud enough that Emily looks even more confused.

“Me? As pretty as you are Christen, I don’t think Tobin would—”

“No, not you,” Sofia cuts her off before she can finish the sentence, smiling politely, and Emily shrugs, allowing the girl to manhandle her. “Seriously Chris, think about making the first move for once.”

With that, Sofia takes Emily away, but not without the blonde saying, “What she said! Tobin’s kind of slow and dense and—hey!”

Christen is amused by Emily and the chaos she brings that reminds her of Kelley, but knowing what she knows now makes her believe that she isn’t imagining things, that the feelings are mutual, and that gives her the confidence to make a move.

It’s just the matter of when.

\--

If someone told Christen three months ago that she’d have the opportunity of attending the World Cup in _France_ , she wouldn’t believe you.

For one, an event as big as this takes months to plan. France isn’t small and there are soccer stadiums all over the country that would require research of each city on where to stay, what the best transportation is, what attractions to visit, and a whole lot of other things that need to be meticulously researched and scheduled.

Secondly, it wouldn’t be cheap. She could budget for the flights, hotels, and match tickets, but for activities, she would want to have enough to do what she wants and have a little extra for anything that could come up. She’s not one to spend twenty grand on a dinner, nor would she ever, but she’d like to believe she could.

Most of all, being a creature of habit is hard to break. Christen’s schedule is predictable, organized, planned in advance, because that’s what she knows, and it works so there’s no need to fix something if it’s not broken. Growing up, her life was structured, organized to the tee, because of school, sports, and other extracurriculars that she had to be aware of what she needed to do, where she needed to be, and when she needed to show up. It’s part of who she is and it’s carried through all aspects of her life.

That isn’t to say that she doesn’t do spontaneous because she does. She attends impromptu dinners and parties. She accepts same-day happy hour invitations. She takes drives out to the coast when she needs a break from people. She even books last minute flights to LA when she misses her family more than usual.

If someone told Christen a month ago, she’d laugh in your face and call you crazy because it’d be impossible, in no absolute way would she go through the stress of putting something together that grand in a short amount of time.

But three months ago, Christen met someone who she wholeheartedly believed would have no impact on her life.

But one month ago, that someone told her if she wanted to go to the World Cup, all Christen had to do was let her know.

Christen didn’t think Tobin was serious until she asked again.

“So what’s your answer?”

“Hm? To what?” Christen turns her head slightly, preoccupied with reviewing the drill sheet Alyssa sent her before practice. It’s her favorite thing—shots on goal.

“France?” Is the one word reply from Tobin like it’s supposed to jog her memory.

“France? What about it?” Christen’s attention is fully on the woman next to her as they’ve been working quietly next to each other for the past hour with Mal helping customers and tending to the plants.

“You know… the World Cup. I asked you a few weeks ago to let me know if you wanted to go,” Tobin says, rubbing the back of her head—something Christen’s noticed that she does when she’s nervous or shy.

“Wait, you were serious?” Christen feels her eyebrows pull together because she does remember Tobin asking, but she didn’t think to take it literally.

“Uh yeah? Why wouldn’t I be? You like soccer, so why wouldn’t I ask you?”

“Why would you in the first place?” Christen counters.

“Because I like you? I thought that much was obvious,” Tobin states matter-of-factly, when it was in fact not obvious.

“I—you what? You like me?” Christen had a feeling that Tobin felt something, but she wasn’t sure to what extent, even if Emily disclosed the small piece of information that the photographer _wouldn’t shut up about you after we left._

Hearing Tobin so casually say _I like you_ renders Christen speechless and, unfortunately, in denial.

“Yes,” Tobin says seriously and it almost makes Christen believe her—almost.

“I just don’t get how you can. We only see each other at the shop.”

“But we talk pretty much every day,” Tobin says, a slight annoyance evident in her tone. “If you want me to ask you out on a date, okay. Would you like to go with me to France for a month?”

“Okay no. Now you’re just being unreasonable. A month long trip to France isn’t a date. That’s a vacation. We skipped a bunch of steps.”

“It’s not like I’m not asking to get married,” Tobin rolls her eyes. “I’m asking you to go to France for an event that most people wouldn’t have the chance to go to. You’ve already been, but that was years ago. I don’t know why you’re making this complicated. It seems pretty simple to me.”

The last part strikes a chord in Christen that has her peeved.

“It’s literally not. I don’t have a plane ticket. I don’t have anywhere to stay. And I definitely don’t have a ticket to the tournament,” Christen bites back, adding, “That’s a lot of money to just shell out on short notice.”

Tobin shakes her heard, expelling a breath before she speaks, “I’d have all that taken care of.”

“Tobin be realistic,” Christen says as calmly as she could muster.

“I am,” The woman next to her scoffs. “I have more than enough travel points that I could write off for your ticket and your own hotel room if you were uncomfortable staying with me. As unrealistic,” She raises her hands, flexing both index and middle fingers twice, “As you think I’m being, I do get a pair of tickets for all the games.”

“That’s a lot to ask for,” Christen reasons because as much of a compelling case Tobin’s making, she could not take it without feeling like she’d owe Tobin something.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to say no,” Christen says firmly.

“Seriously?” Tobin gives her an incredulous look and Christen stays quiet, leaning back against the cushion. “Okay,” Is what Tobin says when there’s no response. She reaches for her laptop, shutting it and gathering her things into her backpack. “I’m going to go,” Tobin says, standing up.

“Wait what? Why?” Christen stands up, extending a hand to hold onto Tobin’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tobin shakes her head, “That’s a lie. I don’t know how to put into words what I’m feeling right now, but I don’t feel right. I’ll text you okay? Later Chris,” Tobin doesn’t let her get a word in, slipping her backpack on.

Christen doesn’t do anything to stop Tobin’s movements, watching her wave to Mal and the door shut quietly once she leaves.

She has no idea what just transpired between them. It started out as their usual day where Tobin’s at the shop and they work side by side, talking at random times to break up the monotony. Then in the span of less than ten minutes, Tobin left because she believed she was being practical for offering Christen a free trip to France.

The shop door opens again, breaking Christen out of her thoughts, and she’s disappointed when she sees that it isn’t Tobin. She glances at Mal, who immediately looks down, realizing that the younger girl must’ve heard the whole thing.

Christen clears her throat, catching Mal’s attention again, and tilts her head towards the customer. Mal drops the mist bottle on the counter and makes her way over, greeting with a friendly, “Hi, how can I help you today?” 

Christen sighs, rolling her head on the top of the cushion, and the more she thinks about the conversation, the more she regrets it.

Because Tobin likes her and that’s how she reacted.

\--

Christen feels off, out of sync, like something’s missing, like she can’t find that one piece to finish a puzzle, like she’s leaving a box unchecked at the end of the day. She wants to believe it has nothing to do with Tobin, but she knows it does.

It’s been only a few days—four to be exact—since Tobin abruptly left the shop. Four days since Tobin said she’d text, but hasn’t. Four days since Tobin said she liked Christen. Four days since Christen was more concerned about trip logistics than someone’s feelings. 

Four _long_ days.

Christen thought about texting first, but she’s stubborn. Some could say prideful. She’d rather wait for Tobin to reach out because that’s what she said she’d do.

But she also doesn’t know how long she could go without talking to Tobin.

(Four already seems one too many.)

Christen’s aware that Tobin’s leaving soon, but doesn’t know when. It could be a week from now. It could be tomorrow. Hell, it could even be tonight.

Sitting at the table with her friends talking about their plans for the summer isn’t helping either.

“So Christen,” Megan takes the empty seat next to her while Ashlyn, Kelley, and Sofia are in a deep discussion about Fourth of July weekend, something about Ashlyn wanting to go to Bend while the other two suggesting a road trip to surf in Tofino. “Tell me what’s going on with you and this Tobin person I’ve yet to meet.”

“There’s nothing going on,” Christen sighs, reaching for her drink to avoid answering. Megan gives her a pointed stare before relenting, “Okay well I thought it was going somewhere, but I may have overreacted.”

“What happened?”

“She asked me to go to France with her for a month.”

“Sorry? Say again? Did I hear you correctly?” Megan raises an eyebrow. “She asked you to go to a foreign country for a month? I’ve been with Sue for over five years and it took us _at least_ a year before we started doing vacations. And that was only driving to Bend or Seattle.”

“It’s not like that,” Christen defends, avoiding her friend’s gaze as she stares at the glass.

“Then what is it? Is she a billionaire? Are you taking a private jet? Is she a princess of a small European country? Does she—”

“Tobin asked me to go with her to the World Cup,” Christen says, cutting off Megan from her line of questioning.

“She what?!” Megan’s eyes widen and she says it loud enough to garner the attention of the others.

“What’s going on?”

“She what what?”

“What?”

Christen sinks into her seat, feeling the eyes of all her friends on her as they wait for an answer. She believes that the lower she sinks, she’ll disappear, but a hand rests on her shoulder. She turns to a sympathetic smile from Megan. 

“Talk about it Chris,” Megan says in a comforting way.

That’s not to say Christen doesn’t talk about her feelings or thoughts, but it takes time to get there, to process what’s actually happening to put into a coherent sentence, let alone finding the words for it. She doesn’t like burdening people with what goes on in her head because it can sometimes be extreme, and albeit irrational, that she tries to keep it to herself. Her friends know how she gets and most of the time let her figure things out on her own.

But this is one of those times that they’ll goad her into talking about what’s bothering her.

“Yeah,” Kelley reassures, nodding enthusiastically as the other two do the same. “We’re here to listen.”

The seriousness in Kelley’s voice gives Christen the push she needs to talk.

“Um,” Christen starts, sitting up a little straighter that Megan squeezes her shoulder softly. “Tobin asked me to go to France with her for a month.” The more she says it, the more it doesn’t sound as bad as she made it seem.

(Maybe she did overreact.)

“Can I ask why? That seems… Out of the blue,” Ashlyn says diplomatically. “Granted this is the first I’ve heard of Tobin, so I’m not entirely sure of the whole backstory.”

Christen quickly explains how she met Tobin, how they started talking, and how that led to the photographer frequenting the shop over the past few months, even confessing the feelings she couldn’t stop happening that Sofia squealed.

“Okay,” Ashlyn nods after she understands who Tobin is. “Can I safely assume that she likes you too?”

“Well, um…” Christen trails off, finding the right words to say, but Sofia beats her to it.

“Tobin does like Christen.”

“How would you know?” Kelley asks, nose scrunching in confusion.

“Mal told me,” Sofia shrugs. “She was there when—”

“Maybe we should let Christen tell us,” Megan suggests, cutting Sofia off, and honestly, Christen’s thankful for her friend.

Christen takes a deep breath in, counting to seven before she lets the air out. It calms her down a little, but she can’t avoid talking about it when all her friends have done is be patient.

“She does like me. She told me in the middle of our conversation about France,” Christen expels out another breath before continuing. “I was so hung up on the trip, she said it so casually, that I completely disregarded it, basically refusing to believe that she could like me when she hadn’t made it obvious.”

No one at the table says anything as they let Christen’s words sink in and she’ll admit, she does feel better, getting out what’s been bothering her for the past few days off her chest.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” Megan says carefully, “But I don’t know how else she could’ve made it obvious.”

“What do you mean?” Christen arches an eyebrow.

“Chris,” Megan gives her a straight face. “Seriously? Are you that dense? Any of you can vouch for me,” She waves her hand to the table, “Who would spend their time at a _plant_ shop? Of all places. A bar, yes. But our shop? We have regulars, but not someone that comes in only when you’re working. She’s not there when I go. I know she’s not there when Kelley is because Kelley might’ve tried to sleep with her.”

“She’s not wrong,” Kelley chimes in, causing Sofia to snicker.

“Seriously Chris, think about it,” Megan leaves it at that with the others nodding in agreement.

The table moves onto another topic that Christen doesn’t pay much attention to because she couldn’t be _that_ oblivious, could she?

Maybe.

She reasons that if Tobin had been more vocal, more clear about why she was at the shop, she would’ve believed Tobin liked her without question.

But on the other hand, Megan makes a valid point that why would _anyone_ spend as much time as she did if they didn’t have a reason to. It’s not like Tobin’s an avid planter when she’s been honest with how busy her job keeps her, that she can’t fully dedicate energy and time into something. It’s not like Tobin’s schedule’s set because there’s always last minute changes that has her adjusting and rescheduling to fit her job.

Two of those things happen to be going to a plant shop, every week without fail and still talking to Christen while she’s away.

Tobin literally walked into Christen’s life by chance.

She’s pretty much been in it since.

Even if Emily said that Tobin can be dense, Christen _is_.

And she has to do something about it before she misses her chance.

\--

“See ya tomorrow boss! Have a good night.”

Christen looks up from the spreadsheet to Mal waving as she’s halfway out the door, “Bye Mal. Please close the door on your way out, I’ll lock it when I leave.” She brings her attention back to the budget sheet that Megan needed her to lookover, the bell ringing as the door shut.

Christen’s eyes feel tired as they stare blankly at the numbers on the screen. She’s been working on this for the past three hours since Megan sent her an email with the month’s budget report because she was doing it earlier, but something was off with the amounts and she couldn’t figure out what. She asked Christen to find out where the math went wrong.

At this point, Christen couldn’t figure out either. She’s been meticulously going through each column and row, and she can’t find where the error is (if there even is one). She’s about to give up and wait until tomorrow, to give her brain a break from the numbers, but she decides for one more go.

Christen zones in that she barely registers the sound of the bell ringing over the 90s R&B playlist Sue made that she’s been obsessing over. It isn’t until she hears a throat clearing that she suddenly jumps back with a hand over her chest.

“What the fuck Tobin,” Christen snaps when she realizes who nearly gave her a heart attack.

Someone who she hasn’t seen nor spoken with since a week ago.

“Hi,” Tobin greets shyly, standing a few feet away with a medium-sized envelope in her hand. “Did I scare you?”

“Seriously?” Christen deadpans as her breathing goes back to normal and her heart stops pounding against her ribcage.

“I’ve been standing here for like five minutes,” Tobin explains, scratching her neck with the free hand. “I caught Mal as she was walking out. She said you were still inside and left the door unlocked. Did you not hear me come in?”

“Me jumping wasn’t an indicator?” Christen sarcastically remarks, rolling her eyes. “But no I didn’t hear you. I’ve been looking over this spreadsheet, and it’s not going well.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Tobin offers, and Christen gives in because she’ll take all the help she can, turning the laptop away.

Tobin makes her way to the counter, placing the envelope next to the laptop as she takes a look at the screen. Christen wants to ask what’s in the envelope, but holds her tongue. Instead she takes in Tobin’s outfit—a loose-fitting black shirt, light-washed blue jeans, and a navy blue cap with the word ‘naked’ in yellow embroidery. The top of Tobin’s head remains a mystery.

Christen hears typing on the keyboard that she smiles when she sees the cute concentrated expression on Tobin’s face with her tongue slightly peeking out to the side of her lip. She watches Tobin, admiring her features while realizing how much she’s missed Tobin. She doesn’t know what Tobin’s doing at the shop, but she’s happy. The part that hasn’t been around making her feel whole again.

“Here,” Tobin presses on one last key before turning the laptop back and Christen’s stumped when she sees the budget’s balanced at zero because that’s what she’s been trying to do the entire time.

“What? How?” Christen’s eyes dart between the screen and Tobin.

“Eh,” Tobin shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “A decimal was misplaced.”

“Well thanks,” Christen means it because Tobin saved her from a migraine forming and she’s never been a big fan of numbers. Tobin gives a polite smile, reaching for the envelope that reminds her to ask, “Why are you here?”

As nice as it is to see Tobin after a week of no communication, she’s a little guarded.

“Uh, I figured it’d better to do this in person,” Tobin starts out, biting her lip in a way that slightly distracts Christen, “I needed to come here before I go to France. My flight’s tonight and I didn’t want to leave how I left last week, which I know wasn’t the best, especially after saying that I’d text you when I didn’t.”

“Tobin it’s—” Christen tries to get a word in, but Tobin continues.

“Don’t say that it’s okay because it’s not. You didn’t deserve me walking out like that,” Tobin states firmly and Christen feels a pleasant ache in her chest, that makes her want to jump over the counter and wrap her arms around the woman. “I realized how unreasonable it is to just ask you to go with me to France, especially since we haven’t known each other for that long. I’m sorry for that, really. I didn’t mean to come off as pressuring you because that’s not what I meant. At all. I figured that you like soccer and I have this dope opportunity for the World Cup, so why not share it? I understand _completely_ where you’re coming from, it took me a bit to figure out what the big deal is, but I get it. And I really just wanted to see you before I leave.”

The last part actually makes Christen move. She doesn’t jump over the counter, but she does launch her body into Tobin, engulfing the photographer in a tight hug that’s effortlessly returned with the pair of arms wrapping around her body—maybe with a little too much force by the way Tobin lets out a soft _oomph_.

Tobin’s body relax against hers that she squeezes a little tighter because she’s glad that Tobin wanted to see her before leaving.

Christen wanted to see Tobin before she left too.

Neither make a move to let go, leaving them standing in the embrace for however long with Maxwell’s “Sumthin’ Sumthin’” playing softly in the background. Christen feels at ease, relishing this moment with the person she likes, mentally checking off the box that her day is _finally_ complete.

When the song changes to “How Will I Know” by Whitney Houston, Tobin pulls back just enough with the biggest smile Christen’s ever seen that she can’t help but smile either.

“Are we okay?” Tobin asks shyly, and Christen’s more aware of the hands on her back that she’s nodding without thinking. “I’m sorry, I really am. I was such an ass. I should’ve texted you the next day. I’m—”

Christen gently rests her index finger on Tobin’s lips, that she feels the smile forming against her skin.

“It’s okay. We’re okay. I accept your apology, and I hope you accept mine because I’m sorry too. I was being overly critical and kind of mean about the whole thing,” Christen says, but Tobin’s shaking her head.

“No,” Tobin says stubbornly that Christen brings her hand down. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. _I_ was being the difficult one. You were being rational.”

“Just take my apology. Trust me when I say we’re okay,” Christen emphasizes, seeing the uncertainty, but Tobin nods. “What’s in the envelope?” Christen tilts her head towards the counter.

Rather than answering, Tobin unwinds her arms from Christen’s body. It’s immediately missed, but Christen does her best not to let it show as she watches Tobin take a small step back to grab the envelope.

“So uh, don’t take this the wrong way,” Tobin starts, timid and avoiding eye contact as she holds the envelope behind her back. “But it’s my itinerary in France and my travel credit information _if_ you happen to change your mind about going. There’s enough for a last minute flight and hotel if you don’t feel comfortable staying with me. I swear I’m not trying to pressure you, but it’s here okay?” She brings her arm around, extending the envelope.

Christen’s staring at the envelope, unsure of what she _should_ do because she doesn’t want to be rude. But she’s more worried about what she _would_ do if she takes it. 

There’s a bit of a lull before Christen decides _fuck it_ and reaches for the envelope. Tobin seems reluctant to let go once Christen has a firm grip, but the photographer releases, letting a somewhat relieved sigh out in the process.

“Seriously, no pressure okay?” Tobin repeats, forcing a smile.

“I know,” Christen nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Cool,” Tobin smiles, a real one this time because Christen knows she means it when there’s no pressure. She takes a quick glance at her wrist watch and her eyes widen, “Fuck. I didn’t realize the time, but I gotta go now.”

Christen’s stomach drops that she won’t be able to spend more time with Tobin. She’s dreading being away from Tobin for this long because it’s been weird between them for the past week and she’d love nothing more than to make up for lost time.

But she understands.

“That’s okay,” Christen crosses her arms, the envelope tucked safely against her body. “Text me?”

“You know I will,” Tobin smirks, and Christen realizes how fond she is of something that once infuriated her. She takes a step forward, wrapping her arms around Christen’s shoulders, pulling their bodies close. “I’ll miss you,” Tobin mumbles.

It’s said quietly, but Christen hears it loud and clear.

“I’ll miss you too, but we’ll see each other when you get back okay?”

“What if we went out?” Tobin asks, adding, “Like on a date.”

Christen’s breath hitches as soon as she hears the word _date_. Her voice gets stuck in her throat as she formulates a response.

“If that’s cool with you.”

“Yes, I’d love that,” Christen finally gets the words out, and Tobin squeezes a little tighter.

“Cool,” The photographer says, nodding as she lets go, smiling brightly with crinkled eyes.

Tobin starts walking toward the door, waving with her hand. Christen reminds the photographer to be safe, which is returned with a smirk that has her lip’s curling up with a playful roll of her eyes.

One last _bye_ and Tobin’s out of the shop with Christen still smiling as the door shuts. She glances at the envelope in her hand, wondering what she’s going to do. Because as much as she wants to throw caution to the wind and just _go_ , she still has obligations that she can’t leave.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Christen decides she’ll give it a few days.

Her mind could still change.

Though, she’s doubtful it would.

\--

Alyssa blows the whistle, signaling the end of practice while the girls form a circle to recap practice and to remind them about the tournament this weekend before they’re released to the waiting parents. Christen steps away, walking to collect the equipment.

It’s almost been a week since Tobin left for France and the envelope is still sitting on her dining table. It’s the first thing she sees when she walks into her house. It’s the first thing her eyes fall to while she waits for the coffee maker to finish. She’s spent more time staring at it, trying to figure out what to do than she’d like to admit.

She doesn’t know what’s holding her back when it almost seems _too_ easy to go. Tobin has kept her updated, sending her messages as best she can, given the time difference, along with pictures of the games she’s worked so far and some of the food she eats with the other photographers.

Christen’s aware that Tobin isn’t sending the pictures to make her jealous because if Christen wants to be there, she can be.

All she has to do is open the envelope, figure out when she wants to leave, pack a bag, and she’d be in France, watching her favorite sport, drinking wine, and spending time with someone who she could very much see herself falling in love with.

“Hey,” Alyssa greets as Christen bends down to pick up a cone. “Thanks for the tip about the penalty kicks.”

“You know that’s my specialty,” Christen grins as Alyssa hands her the cone, rolling her eyes. “You have first-hand knowledge.” Her grin getting wider when Alyssa huffs.

“Whatever,” Alyssa says bitterly. It’s all in good fun because Alyssa and Christen play on different teams in their adult league, in which the former happens to be a goalie. “I’ll go get the rest of the cones by the goal.”

Christen nods, holding the cones in one arm and a ball in the other. There’s another one close to her, so she decides to kick it to where the rest of the equipment is. She smiles politely to the girls as she makes her way over, telling them that they did well today at practice because that once used to be her. She admires the girls she coaches because they’re competitive, sometimes a little too much, but it’s a blessing in her life to have this opportunity to give back.

Christen’s scooping the balls into the bag when she feels another ball tap her foot. She easily puts it in the bag when she feels Alyssa stand next to her.

“Care to explain why Megan’s been haggling me to talk to you?”

Christen pauses, staring at the bag in her hands before she looks up to a curious expression on Alyssa’s face.

“What do you mean? Talk to me about what?” Christen stands up straight, pulling on the drawstring.

“Tobin and the World Cup? There wasn’t much context, but Megan was adamant that I bring it up to you,” Alyssa explains, taking a seat on the bench as she watches Christen drop the ball bag.

“I don’t get why she’s getting involved,” Christen mutters, but gathers herself because as invasive as her friends are sometimes in her life, she sometimes needs it when things are glaringly obvious. “What about that?”

“I’m not sure, all Megan asked was that I bring it up and convince you,” Alyssa shrugs, raising a hand to brush her shoulder. “Care to share?”

“Not really,” Christen says, but Alyssa raises an eyebrow, that she rolls her eyes, figuring that she can’t avoid this one, much to her dismay. “I met someone a few months ago, we got pretty close, she invited me to go to the World Cup, and that’s about it.”

Alyssa’s eyes widened as soon as she said _world cup_ , “Sorry what? You had the opportunity to go to the World Cup this year and you said no? I—why?”

“Because I have obligations here I can’t just leave?” Christen counters, rolling her eyes _again_ because this is the same reaction she’s received, and she’s a little tired of it.

“Christen,” Alyssa deadpans, sitting straighter, “It’s the _World Cup_. This tournament only comes every four years and getting tickets are a real pain in the ass with the sport’s growing popularity. If this is about the club team, we’ll be fine. I’ll ask Kelley or Ashlyn to help.”

“It’s not just the club team, there’s the shop—”

“Which I’m sure Megan and Kelley are more than capable of handling,” Alyssa reasons. “Seriously, what’s stopping you?”

The question’s so simple that Christen realizes that there’s _nothing_ stopping her from going to France.

Absolutely. Nothing.

Because at the end of the day, it will all still be there for her when she gets back.

Her job. Her plant shop. Her yoga classes. Her youth team.

It’ll be there.

Her boss has mentioned a few times this year already if she planned on taking any vacations since she never has in the three years she’s worked at the company.

“Nothing.”

“Then you should go home right now and pack your bags because I think you’re going to the World Cup,” Alyssa goads that Christen shakes her head with a smile on her face.

“I am?”

“You are,” Alyssa says firmly.

“Coach Christen’s going to the World Cup?!” A high-pitched voice yells nearby, garnering the attention of the other girls.

The two coaches are swiftly surrounded by the remaining kids, excited rapid fire questioning like _when do you leave_ and _can you bring me back a souvenir_ and even _the World Cup’s happening right now, why aren’t you there_. 

Christen will be there, soon. She can’t believe it’s happening, but it is.

And there’s no doubt in her mind that it’s going to be great.

\--

It doesn’t start off great.

It couldn’t even start off yet since Christen isn’t able to get to France as soon as she hoped.

There were a few things she had to take care of. Most revolving around her job because she remembered she had to interview a local brewery about their Pride month specials and her boss was pleasantly shocked when she told him that she needed to take three weeks off—effective immediately. She also had to tell Crystal she needed someone to cover her classes while she was away, which her friend said no problem without hesitation since Megan _also_ informed her about Tobin.

Once that was settled, she moved some money from her savings into her bank account (still not enough to spend twenty grand on a dinner, but more than enough to live the ‘high life’), booked her flight to Paris using Tobin’s points, and packed enough clothes for three weeks that only needed two luggages.

Christen did all of this before actually telling Tobin.

She decided to break the news to Tobin the night before her flight.

“Hey,” Christen greeted when Tobin’s face appeared on her screen. Her heart scratched against her ribcage when she noticed how cute the photographer looks with her eyes closed and the side of her face resting against a pillow.

“Hi Chris,” Tobin’s voice came out raspy and low, like she was almost awake, but not ready to start the day. “What’s up?”

“What if I told you I’m going to France?”

“Wait what? You’re going to France?” Tobin repeated, pushing herself up, suddenly alert to make sure she heard correctly had Christen smiling. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” Christen nodded, her cheeks starting to hurt when Tobin’s face broke out into the biggest smile she’d ever seen. “I leave in the morning. I should be there the day after.”

“That’s so sweet!” Tobin fist pumped, unable to contain the excitement that Christen rolled her eyes. “Right before knockout rounds start! Sweet!” She repeats again and Christen smiles. “We’ll have about a day and a half to be tourists, depending on how ambitious you feel with doing things the day you arrive—oh wait, where are you staying?”

“With you,” Christen assumed it would be okay, but she wasn’t sure. It was a bit presumptuous. She added, “If that’s okay.”

“That’s more than okay,” Tobin nodded eagerly. “Are you okay with sharing a bed? I got a king and there’s plenty of room where we wouldn’t even touch, but if you’re uncomfortable, I can always ask the concierge for a rollaway. I think there’s enough—”

“Tobin, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” Christen said, interjecting before Tobin gave herself a migraine.

“Okay cool,” Tobin smiled, a wide-toothy smile. “I’ll let you go to rest up for a long day of travel. Just text me when you’re about to board and what not.”

Christen agreed, informing Tobin that she would email her flight itinerary too, and that she was excited to see her.

“I’m so happy you’re coming Chris,” Tobin said right before they ended the call.

Christen knew she meant it because she was happy too.

\--

The airport is busy, which is expected. It’s a major hub for international travel, and there happens to be this tournament that’s kind of a big deal.

Christen yawns, still waking up from her long nap, as she steps onto the escalator towards baggage claim. She lucked out with the flight because she originally booked an economy seat, but was bumped up to first class when she checked her bags in. She had no idea if Tobin played a part in that, and if she did, Christen wasn’t complaining. It was a long flight once they crossed the Atlantic and she had never slept so comfortably on a plane.

The moment Christen looks up from stepping off the escalator, she stops in her tracks causing the people behind her to quietly curse, but she doesn’t care. Because Tobin’s there, wearing a simple white t-shirt and dark washed jeans with that damn maroon hat as she holds a small brown paper bag that appears to have a baguette sticking out of it, lips curling up as soon as she notices Christen.

The plant shop owner doesn’t realize how fast she moves, but she’s in front of Tobin, arms quickly around her shoulders that the photographer doesn’t have enough time to move the baguette out of the way that the bag crinkles against them.

“Hi,” Tobin says softly that only Christen can hear, bringing her free arm around to pull Christen in tighter, squeezing gently. “You’re actually here.”

“I am,” Christen pulls back to see the smile that hasn’t left.

“Let’s get your bags and go somewhere for breakfast?” Tobin takes a small step back, but keeps her hand on Christen’s waist.

Christen nods, a small smile playing on her lips as Tobin extends her hand that she automatically reaches for. She notices how Tobin’s hand feels in hers, rough and firm, imagining the countless times she’s had to use it changing a lens or holding the camera steady to get the perfect shot. Her mind wanders to what Tobin’s hands could do—with her, _to_ her specifically, but she won’t voice that thought so openly.

“Oh yeah,” Tobin’s voice breaks Christen out of an impure place and there’s suddenly a baguette in front of her face, “Bienvenue en France!” It’s said in a terrible accent that Christen knows her high school French teacher would cringe at how the simple phrase was butchered.

\--

Christen has always had an idea of how spontaneous Tobin is, but experiencing it firsthand is far from what she imagined.

The first day in Paris is a whirlwind, but there is no other way she would have wanted to spend it.

After they dropped off Christen’s luggage at the hotel, after they ate a typical Parisian breakfast (that consisted a lot of bread), after they grabbed a dessert pastry, they end up at the crossing for Arc de Triomphe. It’s on Christen’s list of ‘places to see’ and she’s mentally checking it off (before she actually checks it off in her journal later).

The sound of a car horn honking at a group of people as they hurry across the road to get to the monument itself causes her to laugh and shake her head.

“What’s so funny?” Christen’s still smiling when Tobin asks.

“The people crossing the street with oncoming traffic,” Christen points as she notices another group who’s doing the same thing, except one is trying to hold back her friend.

“Well, that’s what we have to do too,” Christen turns her head to Tobin smirking.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Tobin shrugs, smirking as she readjusts her camera strap.

Christen looks around, eyes scanning to find the proper and safe way without having to impede traffic. She traveled to France to watch her favorite sport, not die because she wanted to appreciate French architecture.

“Come on,” Tobin’s hand finds hers, easily interlacing their fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like they’ve been doing it the entire time, as Christen closes her eyes, letting out a long exhale to brace herself for the unintentional game of dodging cars. She knows she’s being dramatic, but she’s jet lagged and if anything happens, her spirit will haunt Tobin. She’s halfway contracted her leg muscles to step off the sidewalk when her body’s being jerked into another direction.

“Whoa, Tobin, what? Where are we going?” Christen asks, as she doesn’t resist being dragged away from the street, following the photographer before they stop at the top of a stair tunnel. “What is this?”

“Chris,” Tobin squeezes her hand before Christen notices she’s sending a playful smirk. “Did you honestly believe I’d put you in harm’s way? The people over there,” Tobin tilts her head towards the street, “Must not have done their research because there’s a way to get to the other side without doing all that.”

“Well I don’t know! I didn’t have the chance to do thorough research,” Christen sighs, rolling her eyes and she swears that Tobin’s smirk gets bigger, which it actually turns into a hearty chuckle.

“Of course you’d do thorough research,” Tobin’s smiling now and Christen’s trying her hardest to act like she’s annoyed, but is failing miserably.

“Whatever,” Christen huffs, pouting as Tobin pulls her into her body, wrapping a loose arm over her shoulder. Then all of a sudden, Tobin’s lips are on her cheek and she can’t help but smile.

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” Is all Tobin says before tugging Christen down the stairs.

\--

Christen thought the view from the top of the Arc de Triomphe was beautiful, but it doesn’t compare to the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Well, not exactly the top, but the viewing deck that’s pretty damn high.

She enjoyed the Arc de Triomphe once they made it safely through the tunnel. It was crowded, but expected given that it’s summer and there’s likely more tourists than normal because of the World Cup. She took a bunch of pictures, some views of the surrounding streets and plenty of the structure. She saw Tobin taking pictures of her from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t care. She never thought she was photogenic so she had fun, listening to Tobin direct her position.

When Christen was done having her little photoshoot, she thought that was it and they were going to head back to the hotel. But Tobin surprised her with two tickets and casually saying, “Let’s go check out the top.”

Then once they finished there, Christen thought they were for sure going to head back to the hotel, or at least meet some of Tobin’s photographer friends. But Tobin had one more plan on the agenda. The Eiffel Tower.

Which is how Christen ended up on the viewing deck as the sun’s setting over the city with very little effort on her part and most likely a whole lot of effort from Tobin.

“Chris!”

Christen turns around from the view to see Tobin smiling, waving her over. She slowly walks towards her, a bit unsteady because she’s almost a thousand feet in the air and she may have discovered her fear of heights as the elevator took them up. She hasn’t necessarily stared at the ground while at the top, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit queasy.

“Hi,” Christen greets, smiling when she stands in front of Tobin who easily wraps a lazy arm low around her waist.

“Hey,” Tobin responds, leaning against the railing that pulls Christen with her.

The plant shop owner is highly aware of the moment Tobin’s finger starts drawing an indiscernible pattern on her skin. She changed into a crop top when they were at the hotel, realizing how hot it was and that her oversized hoodie wouldn’t be the best option. Her body shivers at the contact and Tobin stops, leaning back, “Are you cold?”

Christen would rather freeze in the arctic than admit to Tobin that she shivered because of her touch, choosing to answer with a noncommittal nod and shyly says, “Yeah.”

“Here,” Tobin retracts her arm, untying her sleeves from her waist before wrapping the jacket tightly over Christen’s shoulder, “Better?”

Christen nods, smiling, and this time both of Tobin’s arms wrap around her waist, one hand moving up and down over the jacket to create more warmth. The neighboring conversations are loud with the amount of people on the deck, but the rustling of the fabric against her body is louder. She doesn’t need Tobin to do anything to keep her warm because her touch is simply enough. She finds herself leaning into Tobin, finding comfort in the heat radiating from Tobin’s body. She inhales the freshness from whatever fragrance Tobin uses, if she even uses any, because it smells nice. She has the perfect view of the sun descending in the horizon and… It makes her feel weird inside, but a good weird.

It’s naturally romantic with little effort on their part. It probably wasn’t Tobin’s intention because Christen knows that all Tobin wanted was to show her places after having lived abroad to play soccer for a year. It’s nice because Christen hasn’t spent this much time with someone she likes. She hasn’t liked anyone in what feels like forever. She may be getting ahead of herself with Tobin, but she does like Tobin. She needs to tell her because Tobin’s made her feelings crystal clear.

But not now. It’d be too cliché to do that. In Paris. At the Eiffel Tower. At sunset. Definitely not now.

Christen’s taking it all in, taking in the view, taking in Tobin, taking in the fact that she’s actually in France when she feels Tobin’s body suddenly tense against hers. The hand on her back stops and Christen pulls back to see Tobin’s eyes narrowed. She turns her head to check what has Tobin in a mood and notices two attractive women, staring with a teasing smirk.

“Is there something we can help you with?” Christen asks, unsure of who these women are to Tobin.

“No,” The taller of the two responds in a posh British accent and the other one snickers, “We were wondering if you lot wanted a picture taken.”

“Yeah, figured it’d be a decent one,” The shorter one adds. “The sun setting and what not.”

Before Christen could answer, Tobin interrupts, “We’re fine.”

Christen brings her attention back to Tobin, immediately noting that her jaw clenched and her eyes are glaring.

“You sure?” Christen sees the blatant eye roll as soon as whoever—it sounded like the taller one—asked and Tobin looks even more annoyed.

Christen assumes Tobin knows these people because they seem to bring the same irritation that Emily and Lindsey brought the day they met.

“Do you know them?” The words leave Christen’s mouth before she realizes it and Tobin lets out a sigh, shaking her head and the two behind her lose it, bursting into laughter.

“Unfortunately,” Tobin sighs again, bringing her hand to rub the back of her neck, looking away as the laughing continues.

“So who are they?” Christen asks slowly because she doesn’t understand what the big deal is.

“I’m Leah,” Christen hears, compelling her to turn around to see the taller one waving politely, “And this frodo-looking one is Jordan, she’s-hey!” Leah isn’t able to finish her sentence because Jordan shoves her.

“Oh come off it,” Jordan moves to shove Leah again, but gets wrapped up in a hug instead, causing her to pout.

“Anyways,” Leah hushes her companion by placing her finger over Jordan’s lips. “We play for the England national team. Jordan’s a midfielder. I’m a defender. We know Tobin over here because she’s done some shoots for Nike UK.”

Christen shakes her head in amusement because _of course_ Tobin knows players from other countries. She listens as Leah continues to explain that Tobin had asked her if she would be able to pull a few strings to get tickets to the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower, but not without reason. Because for as long as Leah’s known the photographer, she’s hardly ever made this much of an effort.

“So yeah, as soon as Tobin found out you were coming, she quite literally ran to our hotel,” Leah smirks at the last part, Jordan nodding to confirm the story.

Without thinking, Christen kisses Tobin softly on the cheek, lips lingering on her skin long enough to feel the muscles on Tobin’s face contract. Jordan and Leah start clapping, whispering things like _Christen’s got Tobin wrapped around her finger_ and _It’s obvious Tobin fancies her_ and _Christen does as well_.

Too engrossed with listening to the two girls, Christen isn’t prepared for when Tobin’s lips are on hers because her mind’s too slow to process it and Tobin’s already pulled back, smirking.

And Christen isn’t sure how she’ll react when they kiss for real.

\--

“Well that was fun,” Tobin says as she slides the hotel key card for their room and pushes the door open for Christen to walk in first.

After their run-in with Leah and Jordan at the Eiffel Tower, they invited Christen and Tobin to a small get-together with a couple of their other teammates. Tobin let Christen take the reins, but Christen couldn’t decide. Tobin noticed the hesitation and reassured her by saying, _Chris, it doesn’t matter what we do. If you want to meet a couple more people, I’m for it. If you want to do something with just us, I’m also for it. It’s your trip, I’m just happy you’re here_. It was fun. A light dinner with famous footballers had Christen a little starstruck because the times she ever did watch the sport, it was during the World Cup, which was rare.

Christen swears that Lucy and Kiera are together, but Tobin shook her head, saying that she’s known Lucy since university and she’s never been one to settle down. Though the lingering looks they were sending each other didn’t go unnoticed by Christen.

What was definitely a topic of discussion over the dinner table was Christen and Tobin. Mainly Tobin getting teased because all of them, especially Lucy, were shocked. Lucy had the most to say about Tobin, which was expected, so Christen heard a bunch of stories that had her laughing. At Tobin’s expense.

But it was worth it.

“It was,” Christen nods, walking past Tobin into their suite and taking over the couch. The door shuts and Tobin taps her legs, raising them up so she could sit. “I can’t believe you were in the Olympics and won a gold medal. I feel like that’s something that should be disclosed.”

“Eh,” Tobin shrugs as she starts massaging Christen’s calves. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It kind of is,” Christen sighs, the sensation of Tobin’s hands on her calves feeling all too good, especially after a long day of walking the streets of Paris. “That feels so good,” It comes out breathless that Tobin briefly stops before starting again.

Christen thinks nothing of it, too lost in the sensation of her muscles relaxing. Her mind, instead, starts to think of how good she has it. She’s in France. She’s going to the World Cup. She’s surrounded by food and culture she can appreciate more as an adult than when she was a child. She’s with her… Someone. Someone she has feelings for.

And she’s getting, if not, the best calf massage she’s ever received. Her mind wanders away from how good her life is to how she feels, and Tobin’s hands are doing _something_ to her. The more she thinks about _that_ , the more she becomes unaware of where she is, and doesn’t realize she lets out a breathy moan, that Tobin’s movement stops.

“I…” Christen lifts her head up, noticing that Tobin’s staring at her legs, jaw clenching, like she’s in a trance.

Before Christen can apologize, Tobin clears her throat, snapping out of whatever thoughts she had and says, “Okay, time for bed.” She squeezes Christen’s calves one more time before gently pushing them off, standing up, and extends a hand out. “Come on. We’ve got a long few days coming up, so we need our rest.”

Christen wants to say something about what just happened, but figures it’d be best to sleep it off. She reaches for the outstretched hand, which pulls her up with enough force that she literally stumbles into Tobin, who lets out a chuckle that she feels against her body.

“You sure you’re okay with sharing a bed?” Tobin mumbles, her hand floating up and down over her jacket that Christen hasn’t taken off since the Eiffel Tower. “I’m okay with sleeping on the couch.”

Christen knows that Tobin’s asking again to make sure that this is what she wants, and that if she says she wants the bed to herself, Tobin won’t hesitate to give it to her.

But she doesn’t want that.

“Yes, I’m okay with it,” Christen wraps her arms around Tobin’s torso, suddenly coming to the realization how solid Tobin’s body actually is as she gives a tight hug.

“Cool,” Tobin responds. Noncommittally of course, because it’s Tobin, who’s the definition of ‘chill,’ but Christen hears the excitement, and the slightest bit of relief, in her voice. Tobin detaches her body from Christen’s, smirking, as she turns to walk towards their bathroom.

Christen catches herself staring at Tobin, feeling something she can’t quite place just yet. But something’s there. Something that’s waiting to boil over. Something that’s building between them. Something that she's looking forward to.

She won’t be the one to give in. She’ll do everything she can to drive Tobin crazy.

\--

Christen’s tired, and that’s putting it lightly. She’s exhausted, but it’s worth it.

The past week and a half have been worth it. It’s been a whirlwind of events that Christen hasn’t fully processed, but she was there as it transpired. It’s all because of the person next to her.

Tobin’s fast asleep, head resting on her shoulder as they’re in one of the buses with the United States Women’s national team staff, on their way to Lyon from Paris. It’s early evening, and it’s quiet in the bus. Most of the occupants are asleep and those awake are studying for the semi-final match against England.

Christen wasn’t surprised when Tobin told her that most of the games they’ll be watching were going to be the United States. Christen figured Tobin was one of their photographers since she attended the send-off games. Tobin was adorable about it, acting shy and _almost_ apologetic that Christen had to be dragged to watch the United States play instead of the other teams. Christen didn’t mind one bit because she was at the World Cup with someone who made it possible for her to be there.

Christen thought she knew what spontaneous meant, but Tobin was her own definition.

Christen thought that Tobin would be exhausted after matches, wanting to spend her days off relaxing at the hotel and editing pictures to meet deadlines.

Christen thought wrong.

That wasn’t the case. Not even close.

It was apparent the first game of knockout rounds.

Tobin was upfront and explained to Christen that when there were games, it ranged from six to eight hour shifts depending on if she had to be with the team before they went to the stadium. She was more than welcomed to join, but Tobin gave her the option to explore whatever city they were in on her own if she wanted.

She tried the first game, but it wasn’t as fun as she thought it’d be. She did a bit of shopping and walked around until it was time to be at the stadium. The first game was against Spain, and it was intense. There was a lot of talk that Spain had it in the bag going into the match, so she was glad she sat in familiar territory with U.S. fans. She had a blast. She was making friends, drinking wine, and occasionally waving to Tobin if they made eye contact.

After the game, USA walking away with the win and upsetting half the stadium, Tobin asked what she wanted to do and Christen didn’t have anything in mind, figuring Tobin would be tired. She wasn’t tired, if anything, she had more energy now that she didn’t have to work. They ended up walking around, sightseeing and exploring the city well into the night, stopping to get snacks when they were hungry and grabbing a drink at local bars when they wanted to rest their feet.

The days off were filled with wine tasting, shopping, eating bread, and exploring, all the while becoming closer with never ending conversation with stomach grabbing laughter.

Tobin was a night owl and could function on very little sleep, something Christen was mildly envious of. At one point, Tobin made a catch phrase of _no coffee, no talky_ because Christen wouldn’t form full sentences until she had caffeine. She was a firm believer in getting the doctor recommended full eight hours of sleep.

Tobin was accommodating, open to do whatever Christen had time to research on and suggested activities that they could enjoy. Everything they’ve done, Christen had no complaints and she was the type of person who didn’t easily give up control.

Tobin was also the most gentlewoman Christen had ever met. Christen wanted more than cordial hand holds and innocent cheek kisses. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate Tobin’s mindset of taking things slow, but she didn't know how long slow was. Christen considered just grabbing Tobin’s hand and placing it on top of her butt, but she didn’t want to seem desperate.

Christen thought she’d drive Tobin crazy, but it ended up being the other way around, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can wait.

Besides that small bump, Christen has been having the most fun she’s had in years. Her gaze stares out the window with the scenery passing her by as Tobin lightly snores next to her. She smiles at the memory of Tobin introducing Christen to some of the national team players.

“Christen, you gotta meet some of them. They’re so funny. Especially Alex. Her and I go way back,” Tobin said excitedly as they walked through the corridors after the Spain game.

“I, uh sure,” Christen said, but Tobin didn’t notice the hesitation, too engrossed with introducing her to someone she knows _very_ well.

“Alex said she’ll be in front of the locker room,” Tobin explained, sidestepping a security guard as they kept walking. “I may have mentioned you to her and she’s dying to meet you.”

Christen didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to burst Tobin’s bubble, and from what she had gathered, it was a big deal that Tobin was interested in someone. The thought did cross her mind when Tobin meets Megan and Kelley and the rest of the gang, but Christen would be more concerned about Kelley than anyone else.

As they turned the corner, Tobin waved when she saw Alex Morgan standing against the wall, talking to a security guard. It looked like the security guard was holding a jersey, but Christen wasn’t too sure.

They reached Alex as the security guard walked away, Tobin only opened her mouth to start the introductions when Alex cut Tobin off.

“Press? Oh my god,” Alex hugged Christen, almost knocking her off balance, squeezing tightly. “I haven’t seen you in years. How have you been? How’s your parents?”

“Hi Alex, nice to see you. I’ve been well, in Portland, still have the plant shop with Pinoe and Kelley. Parents are doing great, dad’s close to retiring while my mom and Tyler have been propagating their own plants,” Christen smiled, leaning back to a mirrored expression. “How about you? How’s Servando? Last I heard he’s in Orlando?”

“Yeah no, he got picked up by LA Galaxy, so he’s there while I’m still in Orlando,” Alex rolled her eyes as they separated. Christen knew a little bit about Alex’s peeve with Servando’s career, but she never went out of her way to find out. That was more Kelley since they were still close. “Other than that, he’s good. He’s here somewhere. I’ll make sure—”

“Uh hello, I’m still here,” Tobin interrupted, a little agitated that Christen, and Alex, apparently forgot about her. They turned to Tobin, who had a confused look on her. “How the hell do you two know each other?”

“We played against each other in college,” Alex stated, the slight irritation evident at being cut off.

Christen guessed that it didn’t click in Tobin’s mind that she might know some of the national team players, but she figured it wasn’t a big deal since some time had passed. Tobin knew that Christen played soccer in college and at Stanford, which should have been obvious since Alex went to Cal. It was a _really_ small world.

“Anyways, this is a surprise,” Alex continued after Tobin didn’t say anything else. “I never thought in a million years the girl Tobin wouldn’t shut up about would be you, Press.”

Christen nervously chuckled at the comment, glancing at Tobin whose face turned red, “I never thought in a million years I’d be at the World Cup and it’s thanks to Tobin.” Tobin smiled at that. “But she’s great. I can’t shut up about her either.”

“Ew,” Alex feigned disgust, smiling right after. “I’m happy for you two.”

After Christen promised that they’d have dinner when the tournament was over, Tobin and her were walking back to the hotel to drop off the camera equipment. Tobin acted like she was upset because she was blindsided that her and Alex knew each other, but it was all in good fun. Christen teased Tobin for talking about her to all her friends, casually mentioning that Sonnett said something before. Tobin’s expression was priceless that Christen wished she took a picture, but Christen kissed her on the cheek, soothing any embarrassment that she found too adorable.

The bus ride gets a little bumpy, jolting Tobin awake.

“Whoa, what happened? Where are we?” Tobin asks, raspy and low with sleep evident.

“Still on the road,” Christen whispers, “We have about another hour or so until we get there.”

“Cool,” Tobin yawns, kissing Christen softly on the cheek before resting her head back to where it was.

If there’s anything Christen has learned about the many facets of what makes Tobin, it’s that she has no trouble falling asleep.

If there’s anything Christen has learned about _herself_ , it’s that her cheeks warm up every time Tobin kisses her.

And it’s happened a lot.

At this point, Christen’s cheeks are in a constant state of blush.

\--

The United States wins against the Netherlands, two-nil, in the World Cup Final. 

Christen couldn’t believe that she’s here to witness it all. It seems surreal, but she is. The stadium’s split between tears of joy and utter disbelief. The section that she’s sitting in is full of USA fans that the people around her are hugging, crying, and she swears that the person in front of her just pulled out a bottle of expensive whiskey, just like the one her father drinks.

It’s chaos, but in the best kind of way that she takes it all in. She has a general idea of where Tobin is, but there’s a lot happening on the field that the group of photographers are taking their photo op of the team as they celebrate the win, confetti and all.

Servando taps her shoulder, “Hey I’m going to go to the railing to meet Alex. Do you want to come with?”

“It’s okay,” Christen shakes her head because it’s a moment for them and not something she wants to impose on.

“Are you sure?” Servando asks and he hasn’t changed since college. He always wanted to include everyone, making sure no one was left out, and he holds true to that today.

“Yes, go,” Christen smiles. “She’ll be looking for you if you don’t get there soon.”

“Okay fine,” Servando relents, rolling his eyes with a smirk. “But I’ll get you once the crowd kind of clears and we’ll go down to the field?”

“Deal,” Christen nods as Servando gets pulled by another one of the husbands, Dom, she thinks is his name, to go down. She can’t remember, but they’ve met.

Christen slowly makes her way to the edge of the row, taking an empty seat as she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. The music blaring on the stadium speakers is something she latches onto as the crowd continues celebrating. The confetti cannons going off every few minutes that startles her out of the trance.

Christen doesn’t realize it, but her eyes find Tobin, who happens to be looking right at her, smiling and waving. She waves back, which Tobin gestures to her to come down, but she has no idea how. She doesn’t know where Servando is, and she’d rather not make any sudden movements with the crowds.

Her eyes find Tobin holding up her phone, and she pulls her phone out of her back pocket to see a text that says, _Come down_.

Christen’s fingers fly across the screen responding with, _How?_

_The stairs_ , and she looks up to see Tobin pointing at the stairs a few feet below her.

The device vibrates again, a follow-up message saying, _I’ll meet you so security won’t give you a hard time_.

Christen relents, deciding that she may as well go with what Tobin suggests. It’s what she’s been doing this whole time, so there’s no need for change. She nods her head in Tobin’s direction, missing the thumbs up given, as she starts to maneuver herself through the crowd.

Christen thought it was hard to find a seat to take it all in, but it’s even harder to make it to the stairs. She says _excuse me_ to people on her way down, but she mostly waits until people are done hugging, not wanting to interrupt their moment. She even catches Alex’s mother on the way down, briefly talking and promising they’ll catch up later at the victory party. She doesn’t agree because she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to go, but she nods along anyways.

“Finally,” Tobin comments, leaning against the railing with a dopey smile, when Christen stands in front of her. “Took you long enough.”

“Do you not see the people in the stands?” Christen huffs, waving her hand behind her to the crowd that seems to still not have dispersed.

“I do, but I dealt with my own crowd down there,” Tobin nods towards the field. “So are you ready to go down there?”

“Am I allowed?”

“Yeah? That’s why I’m to take you down there,” Tobin states matter-of-factly. “Plus, they’re almost done and the team’s going into the locker room soon.” She extends her hand, which Christen takes as their fingers interlace.

There’s a reassuring squeeze that Christen feels as she gets pulled gently down the stairs, watching the steps to make sure she doesn’t trip and cause a scene. When her feet hit the grass, she’s transported back to when she played in college. Her heart starts to race and her palms feel wet all of a sudden that she’s pulling her hand back, wiping it on her shorts. She reaches back for Tobin’s hand and sees the photographer looking at her confused.

“Are you okay?” Tobin’s concerned and she’s more aware of how Christen’s feeling before she notices herself. “Do you want to leave? Is it too much? It’s too much huh?”

“No, no,” Christen shakes her head. “It’s just, this is going to sound really lame--”

“Well you are pretty lame,” Tobin teases that Christen lets go of her hand to playfully slap her on the arm.

“Rude,” Christen huffs. “It just brought me back to when I played soccer. I mean I still play recreationally, but it’s different standing here right now.”

Christen’s immediately engulfed in a hug with one of Tobin’s cameras pushing into her stomach before it’s moved out of the way. She tenses because she doesn’t know what caused this sudden affection, but she relaxes into it, winding her arms around Tobin’s cameras to a comfortable position.

“You’re so cute that I think I might be falling in love with you a little more,” Tobin mumbles into her temple that it sounds muffled, but Christen hears it crystal clear, over the crowd, over the stadium music, over it _all_.

Christen freezes, everything surrounding them goes quiet, blocking out the noise and chatter that she focuses on the person in her arms. She feels the warmth emanating from Tobin’s body. It feels warmer than when they wake up every morning with one of Tobin’s legs thrown haphazardly over hers. She thought she forgot how to breathe, but the pattern mirrors Tobin’s, calm and slow.

The confession doesn’t scare her, though Christen’s sure that if this was with anyone else, she’d be running for the hills. It isn’t anyone else. It’s Tobin, someone who she’s in love with too. Someone who balances her out. Someone who brings more life into the life she had before. Someone who changed her for the better and for good.

“Me? You’re in love with me?” Christen asks suddenly, pulling back to see Tobin’s hair an unruly mess under a hat that’s failed miserably at keeping the strays contained.

“I am,” Tobin says softly, but it rings loud in Christen’s ears. “I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when I knew, but I know I am. I feel it, you know? But it’s cool if you’re not there yet, I wouldn’t expect you to be. Just wanted to throw it out there that it’s a thing.”

Tobin doesn’t give Christen the chance to respond, instead detaching herself and reaching for Christen’s hand as they start walking towards the empty stage. The national team doesn’t seem to be on the field anymore and there are a few technical staff lingering, conversing with each other.

Christen bumps into Tobin, not realizing that they’ve stopped walking. She looks at her feet, standing in a field of blue and gold confetti.

“So what’d you think of the game?” Tobin asks casually, as if this was an everyday occurrence.

“I’m in love with you too,” Christen blurts out, surprised at her forwardness.

Christen would’ve never guessed in a million years that she’d confess her feelings on the field during the World Cup, but there’s a lot of things that happened to her since meeting Tobin, that this seems normal.

Tobin smiles, bending down and Christen watches her scoop up a bunch of confetti, unsure of what is about to happen. Without warning, Tobin dumps the confetti over her head with a _whoosh_ sound effect, giggling as Christen slightly raises her arms, as if that’d do anything.

Christen rolls her eyes, playfully, giggling as well, and starts to laugh when all Tobin replies with a simple, “Cool.”

\--

“Press,” Alex slams her drink on the table, nearly knocking it over as she sits herself onto Christen’s seat. “Are you having fun?” The words are slurred, and Christen has a hard time making out what she said.

“Alex,” Tobin groans, tugging on her arm to pull the soccer player to sit on her side of the table with the booth seat.

“What?” Alex snaps. “I’m just asking Press if she’s having fun. Is that so wrong?”

“You’re drunk,” Tobin says, which sets Alex off into a tirade about how she’s being selfish and a killjoy.

Christen can only watch the exchange, smiling, laughing quietly as Tobin retreats into her seat as Alex becomes more vocal and aggressive.

Tobin was lucky enough to not have to work during the victory party, having bargained with another photographer that she’d take over the next two of their international shoots. It was perfect because it was the two of them at a table off to the side, talking and drinking, while the party raged on. Christen guessed that Alex made an exception to find them specifically as she saw Alex dancing on the bar a few minutes before.

“I’m having a great time Alex,” Christen interjects when Alex starts yelling. It immediately stops her from going off on Tobin, that Tobin lets out a sigh of relief.

“Good,” Alex nods, exaggerated and a little bit unbalanced by her head swaying. “If you need anything, you let me know okay? And if this one,” Alex stabs a finger into Tobin’s shoulder, “Hurts you, you let me know too.”

“No problem, Alex,” Christen smiles as Tobin rubs the spot where she was poked.

Alex stares at Christen a little while longer before nodding her head, as if she got the answer she wanted, and stands up, bidding farewell to the two as she disappears into the crowd.

“I hate it when she’s drunk like that,” Tobin huffs, nearly pouting that Christen can’t stop herself from smiling. “She gets really mean.”

Christen doesn’t say anything, only chuckling at Tobin, because she’s noticed that Tobin only gets pouty and defensive when it’s in reference to her. Christen takes it as a good thing because she has hardly seen Tobin flustered over anything, and it’s nice that it’s because of her.

They don’t exchange any words, letting the noise of the crowd settle between them. People are chattering and there are random bursts of cheering here and there with music playing somewhere in the background. Christen moves to sit on Tobin’s side when one of Tobin’s friends, Kara, stops by their table and snaps a photo of them with her polaroid camera, handing the developing picture to Tobin before moving onto the next table.

Most of the national team are dancing on top of the bar sans Alex, who Christen notices is by the music booth talking to the DJ. The music abruptly stops and Alex takes the mic, tapping it until everyone quiets down.

“I wanted to thank everyone for coming out and celebrating this win with us. It’s been one helluva journey and we couldn’t have done without your support,” Alex says, the words almost blending into each other, and people start clapping before she shushes them, continuing on, “And well, for those that _don’t_ know I’m a big Taylor Swift fan, and she recently re-released ‘Love Story’ and the DJ’s going to play it. So sorry, not really though.”

Some of the national team players start clapping and hollering when Alex hands the mic back, the opening riff of the song begins to play.

“Dance with me?” Tobin asks, tapping Christen on the shoulder, as she steps back to extend a hand. “Please?”

“How could I say no,” Christen replies, and the smile on Tobin’s face is contagious, that she doesn’t realize her face is doing the same thing. She takes Tobin’s hand, immediately being pulled to her feet, body molding together.

Christen’s hyper aware of the hand on her back as her arms wrap loosely around Tobin’s neck. They’re swaying as the song picks up with Tobin singing the lyrics in her ear. Tobin doesn’t sing well, but Christen couldn’t care less because she’s having fun, singing along right with her.

All of a sudden, Tobin’s belting the song, jumping, and taking Christen along with her. Christen’s heart’s racing and she’s buzzing with energy that she feels weightless, floating on a cloud.

The song ends, and Christen lets out a breath, exhausted with the jumping and yelling, but the air has barely left her mouth when Tobin’s mouth is on hers that she gasps, a sudden intake of breath enters her body while her mind short-circuits. It’s confusing, but her mind reboots fast and realizes that Tobin’s kissing _her_ , and she’s smirking, knowing that she caught Christen off guard.

“You know how to kiss right?” Tobin mumbles against her lips.

“Oh shut up,” Christen murmurs as she pulls Tobin closer, the hat that was on her head falling to the ground. 

\--

Christen yawns, stretching her arms over her head before opening her eyes to a sight that she _could_ get used to. Tobin’s lightly snoring against the pillow, hair in a tangled mess that she almost wants to fix it, but chooses not to. Instead, she leans up a little to kiss Tobin briefly on the mouth before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She scoops up Tobin’s shirt off the ground, slipping into it, and standing to make some coffee.

Her body’s deliciously sore that last night doesn’t seem real, but she knows it is. The marks on her back says otherwise, and if she wants confirmation, she can look at Tobin’s neck to see the large hickey she left.

Christen had an idea of what sex would be like with Tobin, but her imagination could not compare to the real thing. She’s had her fair share with women to know that Tobin’s pretty damn good. She’ll never admit that Tobin is _probably_ the best she’s ever had because Tobin’s head is already big as is, and she doesn’t want to add to that. There isn’t a way to describe it, but Tobin fucks with a purpose that left her wanting more and then some. It was intense and all she wants to do is lay in bed, but it’s their last full day in France before going back to reality.

Christen’s slightly jealous that this is Tobin’s life, though she doesn’t think she could keep up because it takes a certain personality that she doesn’t have. She’s content with traveling here and there for vacation, but for it to be her job, it would probably stress her out. She has this gut feeling she might be traveling more because of her relationship with Tobin, but she’ll cross that bridge when she gets there.

“Hey,” Christen hears from behind her. She slightly turns her head to see Tobin sitting up, the blanket resting low on her hips, showing her naked torso. “Why are you over there?”

“Making coffee,” Christen says, mentally taking a snapshot of Tobin’s position before adding a dash of sugar into her cup.

“Well come back here,” There’s a pause before Tobin adds, “It’s only 8 in the morning.”

“I know, but it’s our last full day in France, I wanna do something,” Christen makes a face at her cup when she says it out loud.

“And we will,” Tobin says gently, Christen picking up her cup before walking back to the bed. “Let’s just snooze a little. The past 24 hours have been wild. The rest of Lyon will still be there when we wake up.”

“Okay fine,” Christen relents, sliding underneath the blanket Tobin’s holding up. The cloth drops on her as she settles against her pillow, placing the coffee on the side table as an arm pulls her back. “Hey what the—”

“Shh, sleep now,” Tobin whispers, the breath hot against Christen’s neck.

Christen shakes her head, which Tobin tugs her body closer.

“Wanna make a pit stop to Cabo before we head home?”

Christen doesn’t even think, automatically answering _Yes_ before she realizes what she agreed to.

\--

They’re sitting at one of the empty tables by the gate until their departure to Cabo. Tobin’s looking at her shoes that Alex gave her from Nike, which hasn't been released yet. Christen found Tobin’s obsession with shoes to be different because it was something she never got into, but she knows that Tobin’s into streetwear based on the clothes she brought and the separate bag for shoes.

The amount of sweats was concerning, but Christen did wear a couple pairs, which was very soft and comfortable. She may have snuck a pair into her luggage. That’s something Tobin will figure out later.

Christen’s on her phone, iced coffee in hand, that she can’t help herself from saying, “I’m going to step on your shoes.”

Tobin’s eyes nearly bug out that Christen laughs, taking a sip of her iced coffee, “What?! Why would you do that? Did I do something?”

“I feel like ever since Alex gave you those, you’ve been paying more attention to those shoes,” Christen says, playfully rolling her eyes.

“As opposed to you?” Tobin retorts, smirking.

The comment irks Christen that she reaches across the table and yanks Tobin’s maroon hat off, placing it snug on top of her head. She sticks her tongue out and laughs when she sees Tobin’s mouth drop, surprised that her hair’s suddenly free.

“They’re the new Chicago Bulls fire J1s,” Christen teasing, laughing when she remembers one of the name’s Tobin mentioned, “From Travis Scott.”

Tobin pouts, which makes Christen laugh harder because it’s a treat when Tobin’s flustered, caught off guard by something she does or says. It’s usually the other way around.

Tobin starts laughing too, smiling brightly that it’s infectious. They’re laughing loud enough that an older woman a table over shushes them. It immediately silences them, looking at each other sheepishly, and Tobin shakes her head, apologizing to the lady.

Once the lady leaves, telling Tobin that she has a _good one_ , they stare at each other, small smiles tugging on their lips. Christen raises her chin in defiance because she knows she’s a good one and Tobin shakes her head.

“I love you,” Tobin says sincerely.

They hadn’t talked about their feelings since the final game. It wasn’t really a talk even, more of mention that neither had followed up on. Tobin’s in love with her, and she’s in love with Tobin. There isn’t much to it. It’s simple and easy, something that Christen had never used to describe her love life.

But that’s what it is with Tobin.

“I love you too.”

\--

Christen ends the call with her sister because she hadn’t talked to Tyler since she left for France. They sent a few messages here and there, mostly to make sure Christen was still alive, but this was the only free time Christen’s had since she’s been back in Portland. She spoke a bit with her mother, promising that she’ll plan a visit down when her schedule settles, and she’ll ask Tobin to join as well.

Christen hasn’t seen Tobin since they got back two weeks ago from Cabo. Once they landed, it was already evening and Christen invited Tobin to spend the night before she had to leave again. Tobin’s colleague, Lexa, asked to cash in their deal because she wanted to spend time with her girlfriend, which meant that Tobin was due in Toronto for a marijuana campaign. Tobin did ask if Christen wanted to go, but she politely declined, reasoning that it was time for her to get back to reality as much as she didn’t want to. Tobin understood, figuring that she’d still offer anyways.

It was more difficult than Christen expected to adjust back to her routine. After she dropped Tobin off at the airport the following morning, she stopped by the shop. She didn’t think _everyone_ would be there, but they were, and they wanted to know how the trip was and why she came back a few days after her original date. She planned to go into the office to see what her boss needed from her, but that was derailed and took a sick day under the pretense she was jetlagged.

Everyone, especially Kelley, demanded that she introduce Tobin because according to Megan, _Chris, you’re glowing, it looks good on you_ and anyone that can make her like _that_ has to be someone special. Christen explained that she would love to, but she can’t right now because Tobin wasn’t in the country. Kelley almost threw a pot at her, but Sofia gently coaxed it out of her hand, since it was one of the newer pots. Christen promised that she’d bring Tobin by after their first date.

Which was what tonight is.

More of a late afternoon date because Tobin got in pretty late the night before, but she was adamant that they have their first date as soon as she made it on this side of the border. Christen wanted her to somewhat sleep, which Tobin relented, muttering on the phone when she arrived that she’d pick her up at three o’clock on the dot for an early dinner at her place.

There’s a knock on Christen’s door and she smiles, excited at who’s on the other side. She slips her phone in her back pocket, walking to the door to see Tobin holding a small bamboo in her hand.

“Hi!” Tobin waves with her free hand, extending the plant to Christen. “This is for you.”

“Thanks,” Christen takes the plant, bringing her other arm to wrap around Tobin, pulling her in for a hug. “Hi,” She mumbles, shyly adding, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Tobin says softly, squeezing Christen’s back gently. “But I’m back, for at least a week, and it’s our first official date. Are you ready?”

“Yep,” Christen pulls back, taking a small step back. “Just let me put this on the counter and I’ll grab my bag. Remember we have to drop by the shop tonight so you could meet everyone.”

“That’s fine with me,” Tobin shrugs.

Christen was nervous to ask Tobin if they could go to the shop on their first date, mainly because why would she want to spend that time there when they could spend it somewhere else. But Tobin being Tobin had no issues, she was even excited because she needed to buy more fertilizer for one of her plants that she’s trying to propagate. Tobin did make the small request if Christen could show her how to.

“Ready?” Christen stands in front of Tobin, who has a dopey smile on her face.

“You’re pretty,” Tobin lets out a sigh before bringing her lips to Christen’s cheek. “Always ready to be with you.”

\--

Tobin kisses Christen on the crown of her head, reaching around to pick up the empty plate. Christen makes a move to stand, wanting to help Tobin with picking up, but Tobin lightly pushes her down, telling her that it’s okay and she’ll clean up before they go to _leaf_.

Christen continues to be surprised because she didn’t know that Tobin was a chef too. The girl could cook and she made Christen’s favorite dish that she mentioned in passing a few months ago—mushroom risotto. She watched Tobin make the dish, mesmerized by how natural she was in the kitchen, moving and preparing the food seamlessly, even letting her taste in between steps.

She was also impressed with how well healthy the plants were, which Tobin explained that Lindsey and Emily helped when she was away. They were growing well, and she did notice that one of the plants is more than ready to be propagated, proud that Tobin has done her best keeping the plants alive.

Christen sighs as she watches Tobin walk around the kitchen island because she does love Tobin for everything she is and is so grateful that they met. Christen was good on her own, but with her, she’s something else. Tyler noted that Christen sounded happy when they were on the phone and she realized that there is something different about her, but couldn’t figure out what.

Tobin may be a part of it, but for once, Christen feels secure in herself and in this relationship. She didn’t have a clear picture of what she wanted in her life or what she was doing because it seemed straightforward after college—buy a house, have a stable job, and do things she enjoyed. She lacked in the last, not spending enough time on leisure when she was so fixated on the first two, and she forgot what it all means in the grand scheme of things.

It doesn’t mean much if there aren’t people in her life to spend it with. Christen has friends, but within the past few months, she realized that her relationships with them haven’t been what they could be. The effort she puts in to spending time with them when it’s not work related is practically nonexistent, but she’s slowly working on spending more time with them by doing normal things people her age do, like going out to eat, having game night, and whatever else.

Her family has always been there, but Christen has never been the best at carving time out to visit. They’re only a two-hour flight away, which isn’t long for a quick trip home. The line of communication is always open, but Christen gets so caught up in her life in Portland that she sometimes forgets about the life that’s there in Palos Verdes.

Christen’s at the point in her life where she can take a step back from her career cause it’s stable and doesn’t need much of her attention as it used to, and she can redirect her energy into working on herself and into rebuilding her relationships. Possibly forming new friends too.

Tobin gave her that. It seems like a lot to say, but it’s true. Tobin’s presence in her life made her re-evaluate what she wants and what she doesn’t want. It doesn’t seem like much, but it is because Tobin brings out the best in her. It’s not always simple and straightforward like she expects, but that’s okay because if there’s one thing Tobin has taught her is to roll with it.

Roll with whatever comes your way because you can’t plan for every single thing that happens. It’s impossible, but it is possible to take it as it happens and adjust as the situation deems fit.

“You okay over there?” Tobin’s voice breaks Christen out of her thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet and you haven’t moved,” She lets out a nervous chuckle that Christen picks up on.

Christen shakes her head, even though Tobin’s back is facing her, and stands up, “Yeah I’m great.” She walks up behind Tobin, wrapping her arms around, slipping a hand underneath Tobin’s shirt. Her body involuntarily shivers at the contact, which Christen smiles against her back. “Just thinking about you, that’s all.”

“Really?” Tobin shifts, turning her head slightly. “What about me?” She asks coolly before rinsing off the remaining dish.

“That I love you and it’s been pretty great so far,” Christen kisses Tobin’s back softly.

“Really?” Tobin shuts off the faucet, turning around so that they’re face-to-face. “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?”

“Is that what you want?” Christen smirks.

“I mean,” Tobin pauses, looking off to the side before bringing her gaze back, “Yeah I do. If that wasn’t obvious. I want you. I want this. I want this with you.”

It hits Christen harder in the chest every time they talk about how they feel. It has an additive effect because when she hears how Tobin feels about it, it doesn’t seem real. But she knows it is. There’s no doubt in her mind that Tobin feels like this because she has never given a reason not to. It’s scary and she doesn’t know if they’re meant to be together, but Christen is willing to find out and will do anything to make it work.

Because Christen wants this with Tobin too.

“Cool,” Christen pokes Tobin’s nose lightly. “Because I feel the same way too.”

And Christen swears the sight of Tobin smiling is her favorite. Her smirk is a close second, though that’s something she would never admit.

\--

“She’s great Chris,” Megan bumps her hip against Christen’s, leaning against the counter. “Really great.”

“You think so?” Christen asks, not taking her eyes off of the scene in front of her. Tobin, Kelley, and Mal are playing _uno_ while Sofia’s making their drinks at the makeshift bar Kelley apparently added while she was away. Though Christen didn’t see what the point is, she found it homey.

“I do,” Megan nods aggressively. “She’s funny, easygoing, and helpful. Oh, and she’s clearly smitten with you.”

“Yeah,” Christen sighs dreamily.

“Gross,” Megan makes a gagging sound that Christen rolls her eyes. “Kidding, but I’m happy for you Chris. Happy for you both.”

Christen only smiles, keeping her eyes on Tobin who seems to be beating Kelley.

“ _Uno!_ ” Tobin yells, quickly followed by Kelley yelling the same word after.

“Fuck,” Kelley mutters when Tobin places her last card on the table. Mal starts laughing, which Kelley shoots her a dangerous look that she stops as fast as it started.

“Good game?” Tobin offers, which Kelley shakes her head, straightening the cards to shuffle them again. Tobin chuckles, standing up and walks towards Christen and Megan. “What’s her deal?” She asks quietly, but Kelley hears and grunts in response.

“She doesn’t take losing well,” Megan responds, and chuckles a little when she sees Kelley drop all the cards on the floor.

“Sucks,” Tobin shrugs, kissing Christen on the cheek. “Where’s that pot you mentioned on our way here?”

“Oh,” Christen perks up. “It’s in the back. I’ll have Mal go get it.”

“What? No,” Tobin shakes her head. “I’ll get it.”

“You have no idea where it is,” Christen’s eyes narrow.

“You can tell me, I’m good with directions,” Tobin chides, smirking at the implication.

Christen’s cheeks heat up, remembering what they did right before they came here, the memory very fresh in her mind of what she wanted Tobin to do to her. (She delivered, of course. Thoroughly.)

“Oh my god,” Megan chokes on her drink, coughing that Tobin pats her repeatedly on her back. “Gross. Please, stop. My ears.”

“Tobin,” Mal pipes up from where she’s seated. “I can take you to the back.”

Tobin nods eagerly, still hitting Megan on the back until she stops coughing, “You good?”

“Physically? Yes,” Megan answers. “Mentally? No. I do _not_ need to know what you and Christen do.”

“Who said we do anything?” Tobin retorts, smirking wider than before. “I just do what I’m told. Chris is very-”

“I am right here!” Christen interjects, stopping Tobin from finishing her sentence. She doesn’t know what was going to be said, and she doesn’t want to know. At least not until later.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Tobin chuckles, kissing Christen again on the cheek before following Mal into the back.

“I like her Chris,” Kelley says once Tobin’s not in the room, and Christen looks over to see her friend not even glancing up. “She’s a good egg.”

Christen internally lets out a sigh of relief, coming to the realization that she needed her best friends’ approval. She’s introduced people to them before, but none of them ever got this fast of an approval.

“Thanks Kell,” Christen nods, adding just to piss her off, “Even if she beats you?”

Kelley huffs, sticking a middle finger up, “You know what—”

There’s a sudden loud crash followed by an audible groan and a _oh no no no_ that the four women on the main floor rush to the back.

Christen laughs when she sees Tobin sprawled out haphazardly on a bag of soil with pieces of a pot broken on the floor.

“I-I,” Mal’s lips quiver, “I told her I’d do it!”

Sofia walks over to Mal, calming her down while Christen makes her way to Tobin.

“The last time a pot broke here was when I met you.”

Tobin smiles sheepishly, “I’ve soiled myself?”

Christen shakes her head, trying to contain her laugh, but it’s impossible because it’s so lame, but so very Tobin.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> this was difficult to write, as i started writing this in... june 2020. so i'm sorry if it didn't flow well and there are some gaps, but i wanted to at least share it, no matter how terrible it is.
> 
> writing in cp's pov was harder than i expected, it was still fun. i also do not know if it's true that photographers at the tournament get tickets, for me it'd make sense that they do, but je ne sais pas. 
> 
> anyhow, i'll see ya in the next one.
> 
> be safe, cheers.


End file.
